Freaking Super
by LateInLifeTiburon
Summary: AU. The comic books don't tell you everything. Like when to take the mask off, for example. Superhero!Santana, Brittana, Samcedes
1. Adventures in Body Paint

Title: Fucking Super

Summary: AU. The comic books don't tell you everything. Like when to take the mask off, for example. Superhero!Santana, Brittana, Samcedes

Rating: M for language, excessive violence (later), sexual content (later)

Pairings: Brittana, Samcedes, Klaine, Fuinn(?)

**A/N:** This is my first "real" fic, so I hope you like it. The official title of this story is Fucking Super, but that's against the rules!

Lima is supposed to be a big city like Metropolis or Gotham in this fic. The lines in italics are Santana's thoughts unless otherwise indicated. I think that's all you need to know. This is unbeta'd and might be a hot mess. Let's just have fun with it, okay? Alright!

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Fox/RIB owns Glee.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Adventures in Body Paint<strong>

As always, the line outside the club wrapped completely around the building before winding through the parking lot. I never parked in the section that was reserved for employees, even though it was right by the entrance. I drove my shitwagon to the back of the lot, hopped out, and took the long way.

Some of the club's regulars called out to me and waved. I nodded my head in response like a badass. I'll never tell anyone this, but I actually like it when April Rhodes calls me in for an emergency shift at Ladies Night. People like me here. I feel important. It's a far cry from getting shoved into lockers and thrown in the dumpsters at Lima Heights High School. _That_ Santana Lopez is dead.

Ladies Night was one of the most popular clubs in Lima, probably because it catered to a large, yet specific demographic: women who just wanted to go out, dance, and not get hit on by creepy guys. Sometimes it was a strip club. Sometimes it was a sushi bar. Sometimes it was a whatever-the-fuck April wanted it to be for the day.

April was standing at the entrance, flirting with the bouncers.

"Santana-Banana!" she shouted, tottering over on sparkly purple platform shoes. She grabbed me in a bone-crushing hug and then held me out at arm's length.

"Look at you, sexy lady! I like your outfit, very lesbian chic!"

I rolled my eyes. Everything I wore was "lesbian chic" to April. I'd thrown on some ripped jeans, black Chucks, and a flannel shirt over my Ladies Night tank top. So it was more like "laundry day chic" from the Bedroom Floor Collection.

"Thanks," I said, prying her off of me. "You know, this is the third time this week I've had to fill in. I'm not gonna tell you how to run this place, but somebody's ass needs to get fired around here."

April threw her hands in the air dramatically. "Well it's not my fault all of your replacements have been absolute horse crap! Between you and me, I think this Harmony chick is preggers. And I can't have a pregnant bartender. That's just gonna make people uncomfortable."

I shrugged. "Uncomfortable people order more drinks."

"Very true," she said, tapping her chin in thought. "See? This is why I need you around! You think outside the bottle!" She grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward the entrance.

"Now get your booty behind that bar so we can pretend you never left! Maybe you'll come to your senses and beg me for your job back."

I laughed and stepped back, letting one of the bouncers open the giant pink double doors for me. "Something tells me I wouldn't have to beg very hard." April shrugged and winked before returning to her post at the head of the line.

Everything inside the club was pink and plush except the bar. The bar was located on the wall furthest from the entrance. The lights behind the liquor bottles slowly changed color every few minutes.

I'm pretty sure that April modeled the club's interior after what goes on in her brain. She was a smart and successful business woman, but she was also batshit crazy.

Instead of going straight to the bar, I decided to make a detour to the DJ booth. I passed by the stage, which was still being set up for the first act of the evening. In a few hours, the floor would be covered in body glitter and baby oil. Yuck.

The DJ booth sat on a platform that overlooked the entire club. The noise coming from the speakers was almost deafening up close. I honestly don't understand how Mercedes does this every night. I can never go up there for more than a few minutes before my head starts pounding.

Mercedes turned, looked down at my empty hands, and turned back to her turntables.

"I know you didn't come up here without a drink for me!" she shouted over the noise.

"Calm your tits, Aretha!" I shouted back. "I haven't even been to the bar yet!"

"Yeah, I can tell!" Mercedes bobbed her head along with the music and trailed her finger up and down the list of songs on her laptop screen. "You're too clean!"

"What?" I turned towards the bar and frowned. I could see Mike and Matt sitting on top of the bar, grinning like idiots as a dozen drunk girls lined up to write on their chests with markers. It was Body Paint Night.

"Not body paint again!" I buried my head in Mercedes shoulder. "I hate that stuff! Now it's gonna be all over the counter, the stools, the bottles, the glasses! And guess who's going to be cleaning it up? And I hate those stupid black lights! They make me feel like I'm on drugs!"

I could feel Mercedes's shoulders shaking against my cheek. I shoved her away from me, which only made her laugh harder. Mercedes and I had been best friends since we were in kindergarten, so she was used to my dramatics and I was used to her laughing at me. She was also my roommate, so I could easily paint her face while she slept for revenge. Again.

The lights on the stage went up. Mercedes slid her headphones off her neck and put them down on the counter.

"Oh wait, hold on," she said, pointing down to the stage as the floor manager, Sugar Motta, trotted out in a bright green sequin dress. She looked like a radioactive disco lime.

Mercedes grabbed the volume knob and allowed the song to slowly fade out. "It's show time."

Sugar's voice filled the entire building as she reached center stage.

"Alright ladies! You know what time it is! But before we get this show on the road, let's give it up for DJ Diva, holding it down on the 1's and 2's! Holla!"

The crowd cheered and hooted for Mercedes, who waved politely in return.

"I'm your hostess, Miss Sugar Motta. And I have the pleasure of introducing our first act for tonight, a crowd favorite and a man that is sure to get you hot and keep you wet, Fireman Sam!"

The crowd went crazy as Sam Evans strutted out to center stage in a full fireman's uniform. Mercedes was cheering louder than anybody else. Sam looked up at her and blew her a kiss, which she "caught" and pressed to her lips.

If you look up weird in the dictionary, there will probably be a picture of Sam proposing to Mercedes. I don't even bother trying to understand them anymore. Somehow, the universe thought it would be funny if the world's biggest diva and the world's biggest nerd fell in love with each other. Not that I didn't have a hand in it. When I introduced them, I figured they'd go on a few dates, get it on, get bored, and get over it. Two years later, wedding bells are ringing. Go figure.

"I don't get how you can watch other women stuff money into your future husband's shiny gold thong and not get upset about it."

Mercedes shrugged. "I don't have to worry about Sam. I know he doesn't want anything from these women but their money. And that money has gotten us plenty of nice stuff!" She smirked, gesturing to her top of the line DJ equipment. "And even if I didn't trust him, I can see everything from up here and he knows I'll break his legs if he steps out of line."

"Good point. I gotta get behind the bar since everyone is too busy being painted to make drinks."

"Alright, but I want my rum and coke!"

Since most of the women were crowding the stage to throw money at Sam's junk, the bar wasn't very crowded. Mike and Matt were wiping paint off their abs with bar towels, while Aphasia and Sunshine were taking their turns as human canvases.

"Welcome back, traitor!" Matt called. "Here to steal our tips?" He grinned and held out his fist.

I bumped it, then slapped his bare stomach, causing him to double over. "You know I don't keep your stupid tips. And don't use the bar towels for that!"

"You'd get more tips if you showed some skin," Aphasia called over her shoulder as some drunk chick drew squiggly hearts down thighs. "And more tips for you means more tips for me!"

I snorted and shook my head. "Maybe I'll just pull down my pants so you can kiss my ass."

I never participated in April's crazy games and theme nights. No body paint, no body shots, no lap dances. Those were my personal rules and April respected them. And even though the other bartenders liked to tease me about never showing skin, they knew the Ladies Night regulars tipped me very well. If you wanted someone to play with, you went to the other bartenders. But if you wanted a good _drink_, you came to me.

I threw my flannel on the back bar and started taking orders, making drinks, and ignoring the requests from women that wanted to draw on me or lick salt off of me or something equally asinine. Pretty soon, Fireman Sam's act ended and Officer Mike took to the stage, showing of his abs of steel.

The incredibly drunk brunette seated at the bar in front of me started to bang on the counter and flail wildly. "Arrest me, Officer! Take it all off!"

I was about to tell her to shut the hell up and get away from the bar, but a familiar voice interrupted me and I froze.

"Rachel, take it easy," the blond girl laughed, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I think you've had one too many wine coolers, sweetie." She turned towards the bar and when she saw me, her eyes widened and her face broke into a huge smile.

"Santana! What are you doing here? They told me you quit!"

I blinked slowly and shook my head, trying to shake off the fuzziness that always wrapped around my brain whenever Brittany The Living Masterpiece Pierce spoke to me. I hadn't run into her since I officially "quit" bartending two months earlier. She looked incredible, but that was nothing new.

I met Brittany The Most Beautiful Woman on Earth Pierce when she came to Ladies Night for the first time eight months earlier. She'd been sitting at the quieter end of the bar and in the saddest voice ever, she'd ordered a Long Island ice tea.

Now, I don't believe in love at first sight, but when those sad, piercing blue eyes landed on me, it felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on my head. I couldn't look away. She was absolutely stunning. I suddenly had the urge to do whatever I could to wipe that frown off of her face. So out of instinct, I grabbed three empty beer bottles and started juggling them. Brittany's head lifted and she watched me. Once I got her to crack a smile, I put the beer bottles down and pulled out the big guns, flipping bottles of rum and vodka over my head and behind my back.

And when I finally handed Brittany her drink, I somehow found the courage to lean over the bar and whisper "Turn that frown upside, gorgeous. Only the bartenders are allowed to cry here."

The smile she gave me was so big and bright that I felt warm all over, like I'd just helped an old lady cross the street or taken one too many shots. She thanked me, tried to pay me (I refused, of course), and introduced herself. And then I allowed her to do something that I never let any of the other asshole customers do at the bar. I let her talk to me about her life.

Call me anti-social, but I'm not the kind of person that likes to talk to random people. I'm not Sam Malone, this ain't Cheers, and I'll never be _that_ kind of bartender. But for some reason, listening to her voice made me feel all tingly and happy.

Until, of course, she started talking about her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, the serial cheater. Her boyfriend, the workaholic. Her boyfriend, the reason she was sitting at the bar in a dance/strip club, barely holding back tears and pouring her heart out to a complete stranger.

Is there anything more ridiculous and frustrating than having a crush on a straight girl with a shitty boyfriend? Probably not.

After that, Brittany Everything That Is Right and Good in the World Pierce started coming to Ladies Night a few times a week. While her friends would go watch the show, I, like a circus monkey, would do tricks for her. Sometimes I'd even drop a bottle on purpose to make her laugh (until April caught me and told me it was coming out of my check). Brittany would tell me about whatever shitty thing her boyfriend had done or how pervy her boss was being or how loud and messy her roommates were. And I would listen attentively, asking her thoughtful questions and trying not to drool on myself or stare at her boobs. I'm classy like that.

Unfortunately, the entire staff figured out that I had a crush on a straight girl and never missed an opportunity to tease me about it.

_Stop staring, you weirdo! Speak! Use your words!_

I cleared my throat, bringing myself back to the present, and tried to return her smile. "Yeah, Harmony's sick, so I'm covering for her," I croaked out. "Um… the usual?"

Brittany nodded and clapped enthusiastically, licking her lips. The sudden appearance of Brittany's tongue completely wrecked my concentration and it took a good ten seconds for me to even remember what I was supposed to be doing. I grabbed a shaker, plopped some ice in a glass, and starting pouring tequila.

"Hey, wait!" Brittany said, leaning over the bar. "You're not gonna do any tricks?"

I set the bottle down and frowned. "Do I really have to?"

"It tastes better when you do tricks…" she said in a sing-song voice, grinning back at me.

"You just made that up."

Her lower lip jutted out in an adorable pout, which ruined my resolve like it always did. My frown slowly turned into the embarrassing, dorky smile that I try to keep locked away in my internal Dungeon of Feelings.

"Okay, okay, fine. Put the pout away. But if other people start asking me to do this, I blame you!" I grabbed a bottle of gin, flipped it behind my head, and caught it with my other hand before pouring it into the shaker. I continued to grab bottles, slide them around my shoulders, flip them in the air, and juggle them around each other. My muscles relaxed as I got into it, even though I hadn't done it in a while. It was like riding a bike for me. After giving the mix a single dramatic shake, I dumped the contents into a glass, walked around to her side of the bar, and presented the drink with a bow.

"Your Long Island iced tea," I said, wedging the lemon onto the rim and plunking a straw into the glass.

Brittany took a sip and moaned loudly as her eyes rolled back into her head. I almost choked on my own tongue.

"It's perfect, as always," she gushed. "My favorite drink from my favorite bartender."

I shrugged off her praise. "Aphasia's Long Islands are decent. Sunshine's aren't half bad either."

"Not as good as yours." Brittany shook her head and took another sip. "Not even close."

I could tell by the way she said it that she wasn't just being nice, but making good drinks was what I was paid to do. It just so happened that almost everyone else behind the bar ranged from mediocre to complete shit at their jobs.

We sat in relative silence for a minute, while "I'm Too Sexy" played and a club full of women screamed for Officer Mike in the background.

"I miss you."

My attention snapped back to Brittany, who was smiling shyly and looking down at her drink.

_Say what?_

Her eyes slowly rose to meet mine and she continued. "I came in one day and they said you'd quit. And people kept saying you were bartending for a couple nights here and there, but I guess we keep missing each other."

_She… she misses me?_

My heart was pounding so hard, I would've sworn that Mike could hear it from the stage and was pop-locking to the beat.

_She misses your tricks and your free drinks, Lopez. Calm down, killer._

"I only come in when April needs the help," I said, hoping my voice wasn't going to give away the fact that my lungs were imploding.

Her hand was on my forearm before my brain could process the movement. "It's not the same around here without you."

"Heh, I'm sure it's better," I chuckled. She didn't laugh and I somehow managed to feel more awkward. My arm was tingling where her fingers continued to graze my skin. I was only ten percent sure that I wasn't having a heart attack.

_She's _touching _me. Since when does she _touch _me? Is this real life?_

"So, what have you been up to?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation into safer territory.

"Oh!" she squealed excitedly. She mercifully released me from her grip and my body's Terror-Alert level went from Orange back down to Yellow. "One of my photos made the front page! Quinn wrote a great article!"

Brittany was a photojournalist for The Lima Times and had taken some of the best photos I've ever seen.

"Right, the one about the Hummel investigation."

Apparently, some cop had been killed during a drug raid about a month earlier. The police department said he'd died in the firefight with the drug dealers, but an independent autopsy showed otherwise. The family was demanding answers and claimed there was a cover-up going on. Brittany's photo of the funeral procession perfectly captured the tension between the family and the police. It deserved to be on the front page.

"You saw it?"

"Of course I did, it was awesome," I said. Before I could worry too much about whether that sounded creepy or stalkerish, I added "Congratulations!"

"Thanks. We're actually supposed to be celebrating, but I think Rachel is pretty drunk and Quinn is trying to figure out a way to lure that fireman into her bed."

"Don't worry, DJ Diva will put a stop to that."

"What about you?" Brittany asked. "What have you been doing lately?"

"Same old, same old. Just working."

"You're never going to tell me where you work, are you?" Brittany laughed.

_Hell no. Never. Nope._

It wasn't that I was ashamed of my day job. Actually… yeah, that was it. I was embarrassed and I didn't want her to know about it. Hell, I didn't even want her to know that I was a bartender, but there wasn't much I could do about that.

Sugar Motta walked behind the bar and began pouring herself a drink. I decided to avoid the job question and make fun of Sugar's crazy ass dress instead.

"Hey, Motta. Kudos to you for finding the only Shrek-colored sequin dress in existence. You look like a bedazzled pickle."

Sugar started choking on her drink. Brittany covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Fuck you, Lopez!" she fumed, giving me her best death glare. She looked like a 12 year old, so her death glare never really did much damage. She was only a year younger than me, but that still made her the youngest employee at the club.

"Aw, Sugar," I cooed. "Is the baby getting angry?"

Sugar leaned over and slammed her hand on the counter between me and Brittany. "I'm really, _really_ not in the mood tonight. Cut the shit and get back behind the bar." She pointed at Brittany. "That way, you can actually make drinks while she doesn't give you her number instead of just sitting on your ass while she doesn't give you her number."

I clenched my jaw as Sugar turned on her heel and stalked back toward the stage with her drink in hand. Despite being good friends, Sugar and I somehow managed to get caught in a never-ending game of "Antagonize and Embarrass the Shit Out of Each Other". We'd usually laugh about it later, but at that moment I was just hoping that Brittany couldn't see me blushing.

I was still glaring daggers at Sugar's back when Brittany's friends showed up. I could never remember their names, so in my head I just called them Loud and Mean. Loud looked super wasted and was leaning on Mean like she couldn't feel her legs. Mean had a look on her face like she smelled something rotten. She probably did smell something rotten; Loud had vomit all down the front of her shirt and was sweating like a sumo wrestler in a sauna.

"Hey, Quinn. Whoa, what happened here?" Brittany wrinkled her nose.

I smiled politely at Mean, but she just gave me a blank look like she didn't even see me.

_What a bitch._

"Hey Britt, we need to get going. Rachel just threw up in the bathroom so I think the party is over for her."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mean huffed. "I just wanna get the hell out of here."

Brittany looked at me and then back at her miserable looking friends. "Okay, Quinn. Five more minutes?"

_Oh, right. Quinn and Rachel. Definitely not gonna remember that._

Mean sighed. "Fine. We'll be sitting on the bench outside." She shifted Loud, who moaned like a zombie. They staggered through the crowd and made their way to the entrance. Brittany slowly turned back to me with a look of… determination? She had an intense look on her face like she was about to challenge me to a duel or something.

"Santana, I…" Brittany started, but trailed off into a sigh. She looked above my head as if the rest of her sentence was floating on a teleprompter above me. Her eyes traveled down to the bar beside her and she spotted a neon pink body paint marker lying on the counter between us. She picked it up, twirled it between her fingers and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

_Wait…_

She uncapped the marker.

_What? No._

I balked. "Hey! No no no! No way!" Her lips quirked up into a grin.

I held up my hands in self-defense. "You know I don't do that stuff."

"Come on, Santana," Brittany said. "You owe me one."

"How?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're my favorite bartender! You quit without telling me, you disappeared for two months, you come in on random nights when I'm not here. Do you know how many crappy Long Islands I've had to pay for?"

The thought of lifting up my tank top right then in front of everyone, in front of _Brittany_, was terrifying.

"I really don't think that I-"

The rest of my words fell back down my esophagus and died as Brittany stepped into my personal space and whispered into my ear. I froze.

"You think too much." Brittany's lips gently grazed my earlobe and her hand tugged the hem of my tank top. Her entire body was pressed up against my side. "I just want to leave you a little something in case we don't cross paths for a while."

_Oh my god. I can't breathe right now. I don't understand air._

"It's just a little paint, right?" Brittany laughed softly, breathing puffs of warm air against my overheated skin. I was amazed at the fact that the heat from my face alone hadn't caused both of us to burst into flames. Summoning what was left of my brain power, I nodded slowly.

"Ok then." Brittany took a step back, lowered the marker, and slowly pulled the hem of my tank top up. She stopped well below the edge of my bra, and I was simultaneously overjoyed and dismayed. She pulled my arms against my sides so that the shirt would stay up and bent her knees so she could clearly see my belly.

_When was the last time I went to the gym?_

_Did I eat today? Because if my stomach growls right now, I'm gonna change my name and move to Zimbabwe._

_I should've kept my flannel on. And buttoned it up. And worn a parka. And stayed home._

"Now, hold still. And don't peak!"

She flattened her right hand against my stomach and all coherent thought ceased. For the first time in my life, the snarky running commentary in my head just stopped.

_Holy sweet hell. I… I think I'm dead._

The cold, wet tip of the marker touched the left side of my stomach, causing my breath to hitch. I tried my best not to move, but it's hard not to squirm a little when Brittany Ruler of the Universe Pierce is up close and personal with your abs. Her tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she carefully drew and retraced lines and shapes. Since most of my brain was currently melting, I couldn't concentrate enough on her pen strokes to make out what she was writing. When she finished, she smiled to herself, satisfied with her artwork. She capped the marker and nodded.

Then she started gently blowing back and forth across my stomach so that the paint would dry.

_Yup. I'm dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead._

After what felt like several billion years, she rubbed the paint to make sure it was dry. She stood up straight, grabbed my tank top, and began to straighten it for me like this was just normal everyday behavior.

"I have to go now, Santana," she said quietly. She was still standing extremely close to me. "But… I hope to hear from you soon."

She sounded a little nervous, so I used my working neurons to conjure up my dopey smile that she liked. She smiled back, handed me the marker, and turned to leave.

"Bye, Santana."

I waved like an idiot, and by the time I realized she couldn't see me, she was already halfway across the club.

_Goodbye, Brittany Master of My Body Pierce._

It wasn't until I returned to my rightful place behind the bar that I realized I didn't even know what she'd written on me. I lifted up my tank top and gazed at the strange symbols on my stomach. The black light made everything look bright and tacky, but after a few long seconds, I realized what I was staring at.

It was a phone number.

It was Brittany Life Ruiner Pierce's phone number.

I heard soft, slightly annoying laughter before I felt a body sidle up next to me.

"Awww, it worked. Congrats, sweetie. And you're welcome."

I was too mesmerized by the blinding neon pink numbers to respond.

"Can I have my marker back now?"

I handed it to her blindly, still staring at my stomach in awe.

"How… how did you do that?" I whispered, as if talking normally would scare the phone number away.

"Reverse psychology, Lopez," Sugar said, refilling her glass. "As soon as I told her that she didn't want to give you her phone number, it was over. She would've walked on burning coals and broken glass to give it to you."

I shook my head, still gazing at the giant zero that was perfectly centered around my belly button. "Bullshit. You couldn't have predicted that."

"Think what you want." She tapped her temple. "But my 'bullshit' just got you a phone number and probably the best semi-sexual encounter you've had in years."

"Yeah, why did you do that, anyway?" I asked. I finally looked up and met her eyes. "We had a good thing going with this bitchy tit-for-tat and you had to go and mess it up by doing something nice for me. What gives, Motta?"

She took a sip from her drink and shrugged. "You were too chicken shit to make a move, so I made one for you. Watching you pine over the same girl for six months, followed by two months of her looking like a sad puppy every time she showed up and didn't see you… it got boring for me."

She paused briefly, then looked down into her drink.

"And… it's not the same without you around here. So maybe if I do something friendly every once in a while, you might decide to show your face even when Harmony's not puking her guts out."

I poked her in the ribs. "Are you trying to say that you miss me, Motta?"

"Don't ruin the moment, Santana."

"Sorry."

She left her half-finished drink on the back counter (because she knows it drives me insane) and walked toward the stage where Matt the Magician was revealing to the audience where he'd been hiding his dong. Spoiler alert: it was in his tear-away polyester pants the whole time.

"Sugar!" I called out. She stopped, but didn't turn. "Thank you."

"Whatever, loser. You owe me."

And all was right with the world.


	2. Winners and Losers

**A/N:** I'd like to let it be known that Santana's opinions about her jobs do not reflect my personal opinions about people in those occupations. Just so you know lol. Unbeta'd.

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Fox/RIB owns Glee.

**Chapter 2: Winners and Losers**

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><p>Mercedes thinks she's the expert on everything gay and only God knows why.<p>

I guess it's because she had me figured out way before I ever came out to her. She let me chill out in the flannel closet for as long as I needed to, even when it was painfully obvious that I was the gayest person that ever lived.

She didn't say anything when I would stare too long at a girl in the locker room. She didn't say anything when I tried to convince her that the dirty magazine she found under my mattress wasn't mine and that my abuela must have left it there when she was cleaning. She didn't say anything when I explained to her that I'd doodled "SL loves CD" inside hearts all over my notes because I loved to listen to CDs, not because I was in love with the girl who sat in front of me in class, even though she was super awesome and really pretty and I really wanted to be friends with her.

Like a good friend, Mercedes just watched me turn crimson and stammer like an idiot until I was done making a fool out of myself. Then she'd smile, pat me on the back, and we'd move on with our lives. That was our routine for many awkward and terrifying years.

Then one day, during my first and only year of college, I came back to our dorm, flopped down on Mercedes's bed, and gushed to her for a full hour about this girl who had just joined my intramural soccer team. She was smart, pretty, funny, and ridiculously athletic. I think I spent a good ten minutes just talking about how toned she was. After I finished my dramatic retelling of meeting this girl, I turned to Mercedes and she was just staring at me with this knowing look on her face.

That familiar panicky feeling hit me when I realized I was doing _it_ again. I was talking about a girl the way that Mercedes talked about guys. And I needed to say something to fix it so that she didn't figure out everything that I'd work so hard to hide.

"I… um…"

But my mouth was dry, my face was red, and my mind was blank. I couldn't think of a single word to say.

So after years of silently listening to me lie, Mercedes smiled, grabbed my hand, and simply said "Santana. It's okay."

And then I started bawling like a baby.

So moving, I know.

Ever since then, Mercedes has been some kind of self-proclaimed gay wizard. So of course, when I told her the body paint incident, she went from zero to queer in 2 seconds flat.

"Well, it's about time! That girl is so gay."

"She's so _not_ gay."

"She's very, very gay. Muchos gayos."

"Okay, that's not even real Spanish and she has a boyfriend."

"So she's bi, then."

"That wasn't the point of that statement. I meant she's taken."

"She wasn't acting taken last night."

"Whatever, Mercedes. You're wrong this time."

"I'm never wrong. You know my gaydar is always on point."

I almost choked on my sandwich. "What? Just because you knew about me doesn't mean your gaydar is any good. You didn't know even Sam was bi until he told you."

Mercedes had called me to see if I could do lunch. I only got a 30 minute break, but luckily the recording studio where Mercedes worked was on my route. She picked up some subs for us and we sat in her car, eating and listening to the radio.

She worked as an intern for some hot shot producer and she was hoping to break into the music business. Music was her life. Between producing and DJing, she was living her dream. And me? I was driving a delivery truck with Lauren Zizes face on the side of it.

"For the last time, Sam's not bi. He's Mercedesexual." She laughed loudly at herself.

"That joke gets lamer every time you tell it."

Mercedes opened her bag of potato chips. "I could be wrong about her. But I've never written my number on another girl's stomach in body paint."

I rolled my eyes and stole one of her chips. "And neither have I. That doesn't make me straight. And a little abdominal artwork doesn't make her gay. So take your gaydar to the shop. Get it recalibrated or whatever."

She shrugged. "Ok, fine. Maybe Brittany's straighter than a ruler. All I'm trying to say is that I think the girl is into you. I could see that from the DJ booth. And this isn't the first time I've gotten that vibe from her. She likes you."

I looked down at my Zizes uniform and frowned. The short-sleeved button down shirt and Bermuda shorts were too big, and the whole outfit was baby-poop green. I hated it.

_Yeah, Brittany totally wants all of _this _hotness_.

"I doubt it," I mumbled, taking a sip from my water bottle.

"She gave you her phone number, so she obviously wants to see you outside of the club. Now the ball is in your court."

I snorted. "And what am I supposed to do now that I have 'the ball'?"

"What do you normally do with phone numbers, Santana?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Okay, I call her. Then what? Do we go out for coffee at a snooty cafe? Or see one of those foreign films with no subtitles? Oh wait, no, I got it! Maybe I'm supposed to take her out to a fancy restaurant! I can wear a fancy dress and do my hair up real nice."

Mercedes sighed. "Santana-"

"Oh and then we'll take my 1982 Ford Clunker back to my luxury apartment in the Heights! And the next day, I can take her on my delivery route. We can have sex in the back of my truck."

Mercedes just stared at me, frowning.

"You know I hate it when you do that, right? It's not funny."

"Do what? Tell it like it is?"

"No," Mercedes said in her don't-play-dumb tone, "I hate it when you talk about yourself like that. Like you're a loser or something."

Heat crept up my face and neck. Best friends always call each other out on their bullshit, but it's still kind of embarrassing. I looked away from her and started fiddling with my water bottle.

"You're not a loser, Santana," she said softly.

"I don't think I'm a loser," I replied weakly. "Actually, I think I'm pretty awesome." She didn't respond so I could tell she wasn't buying it.

I sighed. "Look, Mercedes. Maybe she is interested in me, but I just… I think she can do better than a strip club bartender. Or a driver for the poor man's FedEx. She's out of my league."

"Your jobs are nothing to be embarrassed about," she snapped, frustrated. "Why do you always get so insecure when-"

I put my hand up to stop her.

"I am way too sober for this conversation." I started gathering my trash. "My lunch break is almost over anyway. Let's talk about this later, okay?"

I didn't want to look at her, but I could tell she wasn't moving. Finally, she shook her head and started packing up her stuff, muttering under her breath about my stubbornness. I walked her back to the building.

"We're not done talking about this," she warned as she tossed our trash into the garbage can. I gulped. Anytime Mercedes said the word "insecure", it meant we were going to have a Serious Conversation and take a trip down to the Dungeon of Feelings. It meant we were going to talk about Parents and Abuelas and College. It was going to end with Mercedes hugging me while I cried myself to sleep.

_I'm gonna need liquor for this. So much liquor._

"Okay, Mercedes," I said, nodding. "We'll talk about this at home."

We said our goodbyes and I headed to my truck, sighing at the large pile of boxes in the back. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>I hate the word "insecure."<p>

After I left Mercedes's building, it was all I could think about. Mercedes wasn't wrong. I did feel like a loser. Sure, I could pull off a confident bitchface and strut into Ladies Night like I owned the place. But out in the real world, I felt like a nobody.

_What do I have to offer a girl like Brittany? Not much._

A surge of anger coursed through me as I stopped at a red light. Was I really that pathetic and sad that I wasn't even going to _try_? Even if Brittany didn't want to run away with me and get married, it appeared that she at least wanted to be my friend. I could handle being friends with Brittany Perfection Pierce. Mercedes, Sam, and Sugar were my friends. So people thought that I was good enough to be friends with, right?

_Stop being such a big scaredy cat. The Santana Lopez that got thrown into dumpsters every day is dead, but the one that climbed out of those fuckers with her head held high is still alive and well. She's somewhere deep down underneath all this self-loathing bullshit, probably._

I whipped out my phone and glared at it. Before my burst of courage could wear off, I typed a quick text message and fired it off to Brittany.

-Hi Brittany. It's Santana from Ladies Night :)

I mentally patted myself on the back. And then I panicked.

_A smiley face? Who does that? What are you, 12?_

_Santana from Ladies Night? What other Santana would it be? Carlos Santana?_

_Why are you texting her in the middle of the day? Some people have real jobs!_

I sighed heavily. I can't win with myself sometimes.

When my phone vibrated in my pocket a few minutes later, I almost ran off the road. When I realized it was _ringing_, I almost slammed into the car in front of me. With shaky hands, I slid my phone out of my pocket.

It was Brittany.

_Okay, Lopez. You can do this. You used to talk to this woman all the time. Just do what you normally do._

"Hello?" I said in a pitch so high that only dogs could hear it.

_Damnit!_

"Hi, Santana? It's Brittany! Brittany Pierce?" Even over the phone her voice was soft and warm, like socks that just came out of the dryer.

I cleared my throat. "Um, hey there, Brittany. How are you?"

'_Hey there'? Really?_

"I'm great!" she replied cheerfully. "I hope it's okay that I called you. I got your text and I'm on my lunch break so I figured I'd just call you back. I prefer talking to people over typing to them, you know? Maybe it's because I'm not the greatest speller in the world."

My embarrassing dopey smile made an appearance as she rambled.

"Oh! But you're probably not on your lunch break! Yikes, I'm sorry. Did I catch you at a bad time? I'm sorry if I-"

"No, no! It's fine!" I said quickly. She seemed a little nervous, which I didn't understand. For some reason, it was making me less nervous.

"Oh ok, good," she said, sounding relieved. "How's your day going so far?"

"It's been okay." I didn't really know what to say without blowing my cover. "I had lunch with Mercedes, so that was fun. But other than that, it's just business as usual."

"Did you… make a lot of sales today?"

"Um, what? I don't sell- hey, wait! Nice try, Brittany."

She giggled into the phone and my heart skipped a beat. "One of these days you're going to slip up and tell me about your job."

I laughed. "Not likely, but keep trying."

Just then, a black SUV swerved in front of me and cut me off.

I laid on my horn. "Hey! Watch it, asshole!"

The fog of road rage cleared from my brain and I realized I was basically screaming in Brittany's ear.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! Somebody just cut me off."

"You're… you're driving?" she asked.

_CRAP._

"Yeah... uh… I'm running errands!" I squeaked. "I had to go drop off some packages. For my boss."

That wasn't entirely false, so I didn't feel horrible about twisting the truth.

"Oh ok. I was wondering what all that noise was. I just thought you had a busy office," she said, unaware that I almost ruined everything.

I pulled up to the curb outside of the First National Bank of Lima. I needed to get the packages out of the Zizes drop box in front of the building. As much as I didn't want to, I had to hang up.

"Hey, Brittany. I have to run inside for a minute. Can I give you a call back later?"

"Oh yeah, of course!" She sounded genuinely happy about the prospect of a phone call from me, so I decided to hold onto that.

"My lunch break is an hour, so if you call back in the next… 45 minutes, I'll still be here."

There was some shuffling in the background and what sounded like a light slap.

"_Ok, ok! Rachel, jeez!_" she whispered. She cleared her throat. "Actually, I was hoping maybe we might be able to make plans to do lunch. Maybe sometime next week?"

My mind literally shut down. She might as well have told me that I'd won the lottery and that it would rain vodka tomorrow. I guess I was silent for too long because when she spoke again, the nervousness was back.

"If you're free, that is. I'd hate to bother you and I'm sure you're super busy- _Rachel, stop hitting me!_"

"No, no! That… that sounds great!" I said, forcing my mouth to work.

"Oh, awesome!" she said, sounding relieved. "Ok, go finish your errands and give me a call back so we can plan out the details."

"Ok, I'll be right back," I said. I ended the call and slumped down in my seat.

_Why was that the most stressful conversation of life?_

I went to the back of the truck, grabbed my cart, and skipped toward the building. Yes, I skipped. Brittany Hit Me Baby One More Time Pierce wanted to go out to lunch. With _me_. I was on top of the world. I felt like Superman.

_Best. Day. Ever._

I unlocked the drop box, loaded the packages on the cart, and was back at my truck in record time. I really wanted to catch Brittany before her break was over, so I kinda just threw shit in the back of the truck. I usually try not to do that, but it wasn't December so it's not like I was breaking anyone's Christmas presents.

I ran around the side of the truck, hopped in the driver's seat, and grabbed my phone to call Brittany back.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

My head snapped up. Standing in the open doorway on the passenger side was a guy in three-piece suit. It was dark grey plaid, which was weird, but the weirder part was that his pants appeared to be several inches too short and he wasn't wearing any socks. He was wearing huge dark sunglasses and he had so much gel in his hair, I could see my reflection in it.

Oh, and he had a gun.

He stepped into my truck, grabbed my phone, and put it in his pocket.

"Drive. Do exactly as I say and you might live. If you try anything funny, I'll shoot you. Do you understand?"

I nodded. If I've learned anything from growing up in Lima Heights, it's A) don't walk down 34th Street after dark and B) if somebody tells you they'll shoot you, believe them.

I started the truck and pulled out onto the road. That's when I noticed that the black SUV that had cut me off earlier was pulling out too. Two more SUVs pulled up on my sides.

_Awesome. Now we're a great big convoy of awful._

"Take the highway east. I'll let you know when to exit. Close your door."

I slid my door closed as he closed the other one. I turned to him after I'd merged onto the highway.

"Look, I'm just a driver," I said quietly. "If there's something you want in this truck, please feel free to take it. I'm not going to stop you. Take whatever you want. Hell, take the truck. You can just drop me off at a gas station and I'll be out of your perfectly gelled hair. I won't tell anybody."

He seemed to consider my proposition for a few seconds, but then he shook his head.

"I'm under strict directives. Detain the driver. Secure the cargo. Exterminate the driver in the event of an escape attempt. There's not much room for negotiation here."

I shrugged. "Eh. I had to try."

It felt weird to be comforted by the fact that he used words like "directives" and "exterminate". Maybe someone who used fancy words was too sophisticated to shoot me in the face and leave me in the woods somewhere.

When your highest goal in life is to avoid becoming an episode of Cold Case, you may have hit rock bottom.

My phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out.

"You've got a text!" he said, wiggling his weird triangular eyebrows at me. He opened it and started to read.

"Hey Santana, I had to go back to work, but call me when you can and we'll make plans for lunch. Exclamation point, smiley face. Brittany. Aw, that's cute."

_So much for sophisticated and fancy. What a douchebag._

"There's no radio in this thing?" He searched aimlessly around my dashboard.

"Nope. No A/C either."

"That sucks."

"Welcome to my world," I sighed. "If it's too much for you, feel free to ride in the SUV with your friends."

_Or you know, shoot yourself._

He grinned obnoxiously and wagged his finger at me. "Nice try."

Then he pulled out his own phone, opened a music app, and proceeded to sing the entire score of Rent.

_Worst. Day. Ever._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I wanted to put more chapters up so that people could see the direction I was taking with this and decide if they liked it, but eh, whatever lol. This story has changed _a lot_ from when I started writing it, so it's just fun to see it evolve (ex: the guy with the gun, who has survived several rewrites of this chapter, magically turned into Blaine today!). I'm starting the third chapter soon, so let me know what you think. Shit starts to pop off in the next chapter, so if you stick around, hold on to your seat!


	3. Mistaken Identity

**A/N:** I'm not a big fan of the Warblers, but I saw Telly Leung on Broadway (Godspell) and he was awesome. So I put Wes the Warbler in this chapter :) More notes at the bottom.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. RIB/Fox does.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Mistaken Identity<strong>

When he finished the score of Rent and moved on to Wicked, I briefly considered driving into oncoming traffic.

When he spent forty minutes trying to hit the high note in "Defying Gravity", I asked him to just go ahead and shoot me. He refused, of course. Gotta stick to those directives.

We exited the highway and pretty soon, we were in the middle of the woods.

Driving a delivery truck on a dirt road gets old quick. The vibration was… entertaining for the first few minutes, but as the road got worse, I felt more and more nauseous. After an hour of following the lead SUV through the woods and trying not to throw up on Broadway Barbie, we finally pulled up to a security gate.

The guards at the gate were also dressed like my kidnapper, except their pants were the appropriate length and they seemed to be comfortable wearing dress socks.

One of them walked up to the first car holding a small black box in his hand. He went around to each SUV, scanning every passenger's fingerprint and waiting for the box to confirm their identity.

When he scanned Broadway Barbie's finger, the screen on the box flashed with the words "Anderson, Blaine".

"Don't scan her," Blaine told the guard, waving him away from me. "She's our guest of honor tonight."

Behind the security gate, the forest opened up into a large clearing. The dirt road turned into a paved driveway that led up to a large ranch house. Black SUVs of different makes and models were parked in rows all over the clearing. A large cinder block building loomed over the house from the back yard.

The burned out husks of three delivery trucks leaned lifelessly against the trees.

_Well, _that's_ not a good sign._

I pulled up behind the lead SUV and put the truck in park. Instantly, my truck was surrounded by large men in dark grey plaid suits with automatic weapons.

_And to think I left my flask at home today._

"Open your door," Blaine said, turning off his music.

I slid the door open and was greeted by an angry looking Asian guy who was aiming his gun directly between my eyes. He looked pissed off at life, so I knew we were going to be great pals.

"Driver!" he shouted from three feet away. "Turn off your vehicle and exit on the passenger's side!"

"I'm fine, how are you today?" I muttered, following his instructions.

Blaine opened his door and stepped down so I could get out. Two suited gunman grabbed my arms as the Asian guy rounded the truck. He snatched the keys from me as if I'd personally offended him.

"Hey, Wes, I think you need to calm down, buddy." Blaine put his hand on the guy's shoulder and smiled. "You seem a little on edge. I think we did good today. No worries."

Wes glared at his hand, then shrugged it off.

"Yeah, easy for you to say," he spat angrily. "If this isn't the right truck, you're not going to get any flack for it. The rest of us won't be so lucky. Let's just hope you actually did your job today."

"Take the truck to the warehouse," Blaine said, taking the keys from Wes and handing them to one of the guys standing near him. "Skip the checks, everything we need should be in the back."

Wes turned his glare back to me. "Oh fantastic. Someone new to kill. Let's go."

_Can we stop with the casual references to my death? I'm really not enjoying that._

The two guys holding my arms practically dragged me forward. You would've thought I was 6-foot-tall linebacker by the way those two assholes frog-marched me into the ranch house. I was tiny compared to them and I was the only unarmed person for miles, but that didn't stop them from roughing me up.

Blaine and Wes walked in front, leading us through various hallways and past empty rooms. The house wasn't decorated or even painted. It seemed like whoever had constructed the house had just stopped in the middle of the job.

Finally, we reached what appeared to be the only room in the house that actually had a door. The door was made of a dark, rich wood and had a large decorative "K" carved in the center. Blaine knocked quietly.

"Come in!" someone called from inside.

Blaine opened the door. My two new best friends dragged me inside and plopped me in the middle of the floor.

Unlike all of the other rooms in the house, this one actually had furniture. There were full book shelves lining the walls and fancy plush armchairs in every corner. The giant window at the back of the room looked out into the dark backyard. Large spotlights swiveled back and forth, shining on the large concrete building by the tree line.

_Could this look any more like a prison?_

The only person in the room was a very young looking man. He was sitting on top of a large wooden desk with his legs crossed primly at the knee. His suit looked similar to everyone else's, except it was dark purple instead of dark grey. The bowler hat on his head had several large peacock feathers sticking out of it. His cheeks were a rosy pink and his eyebrows were meticulously plucked. There was a laptop open on the desk next to him, but he ignored it completely. He looked incredibly bored with the universe.

He was the most magnificently gay thing I'd ever seen in my life.

Even though Lima was the largest city in Ohio, no one was ever this flamboyant or bold. I was simultaneously jealous and in awe of this guy.

Until I realized that he was the one who had ordered me to be carjacked and kidnapped. And when I thought about how many peacocks had to suffer to make that ugly hat, I was furious.

His eyes instantly met Blaine's and they stared intensely at each other for a few moments before breaking into matching grins. Blaine blushed lightly and turned away. Wes rolled his eyes and sighed loudly.

_Okaaaay, those two are fucking. That's what Wes was talking about. I'd be pissed off, too._

Desk Guy turned to me and looked me up and down slowly a few times. When he finished, he frowned deeply. Apparently, I failed whatever mental test he'd given me. I flinched as he broke the silence.

"You're very pretty."

I wanted to say "you too", but something told me that he wouldn't appreciate it. Blaine handed him my wallet, which he'd taken from me during our little road trip.

"Santana Maria Lopez of Lima, Ohio," he read aloud, looking at my driver's license. He began to go through all of the randomness in my wallet.

"23 years old. Organ donor. Costco Member. East Lima Public Library patron. Zizes driver."

He took out my Lima Bean rewards card and stuck it in his pants pocket.

_Hey! I have 300 points on that card! I hope his next mocha latte scalds his stomach lining and kills him. Thieving dickhead._

"Is there anything else I need to know about you, Santana Lopez? If that's your real name."

His voice was unsettling. He spoke softly but his tone had a sharp edge to it, like a knife wrapped in a blanket. Sure, he looked like a baby, but there was something dangerous and off-putting about him.

I decided to answer his question. "That is my real name. I'm not sure what you want with me, but I already told your friend that I don't know what's in the truck. You can have everything. I don't have anything to do with whatever is going on here."

He laughed loudly and I cringed at the sound. It was forced and unnatural. He stood up and walked over to where I was standing.

"Of course," he said. "You would say that."

I waited for him to explain further, but instead, he looked me over again.

"It's a shame that someone with such potential has to die. I could have used you on the runway. You're far too short, though. And your fashion sense is tragic. This outfit is heartbreaking. You look like the Crocodile Hunter."

Growing up in Lima Heights had made me immune to most insults, but I really couldn't take people talking about that damn uniform. Putting it on in the morning had been the worst part of my day for two years. After everything I'd been through, I wasn't about to take shit about my job from somebody wearing fucking peacock feathers.

It was bad enough that all of these assholes were wearing suits. I felt like an underdressed guest at some freakish nightmare tea party.

Everyone has a breaking point.

"Look, Twinky Winky," I snapped. "If you're going to have your little boyfriend drag me all over the state at gunpoint and then tell me I'm going to die, you could at least have the decency to be polite."

His face scrunched up in confusion. "I thought I _was_ being polite. But I guess that's all a matter of opinion."

"Well in _my_ _opinion_, you look like a pimp that escaped from the 70s. All you need to do now is sew some leopard print lining on your suit jacket and change your name to Sweet Daddy."

He clenched his fists and scowled at me. His face and neck were turning bright red. Wes covered his mouth with both hands to stifle a laugh.

_See? Doesn't feel so good when people talk about your clothing, now does it?_

"Kurt, sweetie, just ignore her-"

Kurt put his hand up to silence Blaine. He narrowed his eyes.

"You know _nothing_ about fashion," he spat. "I was going to give you something else to wear so that you wouldn't have to die in the potato sack that you're wearing, but now you've angered me."

He snapped his fingers. "Let's get this over with. I'm tired of this conversation."

The gorillas holding my arms grabbed a chair for me and stepped back toward the door. Kurt motioned for me to sit. He sat back down on top of his desk.

"Does this… person look familiar to you, Artie?"

Kurt angled the laptop on his desk so that it was facing me. There was a nerdy looking guy with Beiber bangs and thick glasses staring back at me via Skype. He stared at me closely for a moment. Then he shook his head.

"Nope, never seen her before."

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked.

"Yup. She's not one of them."

Kurt frowned. "She was driving the truck. She must be involved somehow."

"Well if she is involved, she's new," Artie said, shrugging. "And I doubt that's the case. We would've caught wind of that. Looks like you kidnapped a Zizes driver for no reason."

"Thank you!" I shouted, pointing at the laptop. "That's what I've been saying all day, but none of these douche nozzles wanted to listen to me!"

Wes, who had moved over to the window, gave me a weird look. I was about to ask him what his problem was when Kurt grabbed the arms of my chair and got in my face.

"Who sent you?" Kurt sneered.

"Lauren Zizes," I said as slowly and obnoxiously as possible. I didn't back away from him like he wanted me to. He was about as scary as a marshmallow Peep. "I am a driver for Lauren Zizes Trucking and Delivery-"

"No! No! You're a liar!" he screeched, smacking his hands against the chair like a toddler. My eyes widened at his outburst. He took a deep breath and stood up straight, trying to calm himself down.

Pulling a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket, he cleared his throat and read aloud.

"Intercepted Message From McKinley: All communications will go through the Lima Bank drop box at 1300 hours. The special courier will know what to do. All chambers are in route to headquarters. Other cargo to be shipped at a later date."

Raising his eyebrows at me, he crossed his arms and waited for me to respond.

I threw my hands up in the air. "What the fuck does any of that mean? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Let me give you a hint," Kurt said. He sounded like he was close to losing his patience with me.

"_You_ are the special courier," he snapped, jabbing his finger into my collarbone. "_You_ were at the Lima Bank drop box at 1300 hours. _You_ are relaying messages for McKinley. And _you_ know where the chambers are. So if _you_ want to live, _you _better start talking!"

I slumped down in my chair to get away from his probing finger.

"I stop at the bank every day at 1:00pm," I explained. "It's always been on my route. I was 15 minutes late today because I met a friend for lunch and hit some traffic. Maybe you missed the guy you're looking for."

I looked at Artie, the only person who seemed to believe me.

"I don't know what a McKinley is and I'm not a 'special courier'," I said. "I don't know what else I can say to you to make you believe me."

The silence in the room lasted a good three minutes. Kurt seemed to be having a serious mental conversation with Blaine that quickly devolved into eye sex, Artie just stared at me, opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to say something, and Wes looked back and forth between his watch and the window.

_This is it, Lopez. It was fun while it lasted._

Finally, after eons, Artie simply said "I believe her."

Kurt looked me up and down. "How do we know she's not that Berlin guy in disguise?"

I gasped. "Excuse me? I know you don't like my uniform, but now you're just being hurtful."

Artie shook his head. "Impossible. Berlin can only turn into another male." His eyes raked over my form again and he smirked. "This one is 100% woman."

I decided to ignore his perviness since he was attempting to save my life.

"Great!" I clapped my hands together, stood up, and smiled. "Now, if you could kindly return my truck to me, I'll be on my way."

* * *

><p>Being chained to a basement wall is about as fun as it sounds.<p>

It wasn't like a horror movie basement, and for that I was grateful. Someone had hastily tacked down some cheap carpet, so at least I wasn't sitting on the cold ground. There were a million computers running all over the room, making it was ridiculously hot. I was soaked in sweat and my arms were chained in an awkward position behind my back.

_At least I'm not dead. Yet._

A metal door on the other side of the room slid open and in rolled a kid in a wheelchair. I recognized him from the Skype call in Kurt's office. Artie.

He rolled over to my corner of the room and peered down at me.

"You're the Zizes driver."

I nodded. "That I am. And you're another random person I just met today. It's nice that the basement is wheelchair accessible."

He smiled tightly. "Who are you really?"

"Oh, not you too!" I let my head fall back against the wall. "I thought you were on my side."

"I said what I had to say to get you down here," he replied. "I needed to talk to you in private."

"Why?"

He looked over his shoulder even though we were the only two in the room. He leaned down and started whispering, as if he was afraid someone would hear him over the whirring computer fans.

"Has… has Tina said anything about me?"

I sighed. "Who is Tina? What are you talking about?"

"I'm sure the guys have told you about our… situation," he continued, ignoring me. "And I know everyone still hates me. I just want Tina to know that I never meant for any of this to happen. I mean, you're not going to be able to tell her that I'm sorry since Kurt's going to kill you, but I was hoping she'd know that this is out of my hands now. Did she mention anything like that to you?"

I was beyond sick of this shit.

I lunged at him. My chains jerked me back, but he still wheeled away from me to the other wall.

"Okay, okay!" he said, putting his hands up defensively. "I get it. You hate me, too. Sorry."

He rolled himself over to a computer monitor and began to work silently, casting a fearful look in my direction every few minutes.

_What's his deal? I can't hurt him. I'm chained to a wall. It's not like I can shoot lasers out of my eyes or something._

The walkie-talkie hanging from the arm of Artie's wheelchair crackled to life.

"Front entrance to Artie, requesting assistance. Over."

Artie pulled his radio out. "Artie here, what's the problem? Over."

"Artie, we're having a problem with the new access system. I'm scanning this guy's fingerprint, but the system won't let the gate open. Over."

Artie sighed. "What's the error message? And who are you scanning? Over."

"We've got... what's your name? Ok. We've got Wes Porter here."

Artie's face turned ghostly pale and he looked like he was about to be sick. The walkie-talkie slid from his limp hand and clattered against the side of his wheelchair.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself. "Oh we're so fucked."

"What's wrong?" I called from the corner. He ignored me. His eyes were darting around the room, glazed and unfocused.

"The error message says that he's already inside the compound and he hasn't left yet. Over."

Artie gulped and scrambled to pick up the walkie-talkie.

"Artie? You still there?"

"Code Red," he croaked into the radio. "Fucking Code Red. It's Berlin. He's here. He's in the building impersonating Wes. Keep the real Wes outside. Lock down the gates. Sound the alarm."

A large red light on the ceiling began to flash, but died almost instantly.

The power went out.

"Fuck!" Artie screamed.

"What's going on?" I yelled. I could hear him frantically rolling around in the dark, but I had no idea what he was doing.

The emergency lights came on. The metal door that Artie entered through slid open.

"I'm getting out of here, that's what's going on." He rolled quickly to the door.

I yanked on my chains. "Hey! Wait!"

"What?" He turned back toward me. His eyes were wild and he was breathing heavily.

"You're going to just leave me here?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"You can't do that!" I screamed.

**BOOM.**

The house shook with so much force that giant chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling. Bursts of gunfire came from the room over us, followed by the sound of heavy boots running from room to room. Artie looked like he was going to shit himself.

"Hell yes I can!" He rolled through the sliding door and up the ramp.

My blood ran cold. He was really going to leave me there.

He knew that something horrible was about to happen and he was going to leave me in the basement to die in the dark.

_Think, Lopez! He's your only way out of here!_

I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"I'll tell Tina that you're sorry!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

I wasn't sure he heard me at first, but then I heard the sound of his wheels squeaking. He came back to the bottom of the ramp, but didn't enter the room.

"I thought you said you weren't the courier," he said suspiciously.

"I am!" I tugged on my chains again. "I was lying because I thought they'd let me go! But if you let me out, I'll tell her everything you told me!"

He hesitated. "If you're the courier, you can just go back to McKinley with Berlin."

I pulled harder, praying that the chains would just give out somehow. I didn't know who Berlin was and by the sounds of what was going on upstairs, he wasn't a nice guy. Everyone I'd met that day had either threatened to kill me or implied that they would eventually kill me. I would take my chances with Artie.

"I can't go with Berlin!" I lied. I didn't even know what I was saying. "He's mad at me. He thinks I gave the secret messages to Kurt. Please, help me!"

Something flashed in his eyes, but he still didn't move.

"Well, betrayal is sort of frowned upon over there. I should know."

I was begging now. "Please, Artie! I'll tell Tina that you're sorry! You said you never meant for any of this to happen. You said it's out of your hands. I remember. Now please. Help me."

**BOOM.**

Artie jerked backward into the doorway as a large server rack fell down next to him. More plaster fell from the ceiling and the dust was making it hard to breathe.

"I'll tell her you love her! Just please, _don't let me die down here_!"

My voice was hoarse from screaming and pleading. Artie glanced at the ceiling briefly before rolling over to me and pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket.

There were at least 30 keys on the fucking ring.

I groaned loudly. "Why do you have so many keys?"

"I need them!" he said, flipping quickly through the keys on the ring.

Artie's walkie-talkie crackled again, and a distorted robotic voice came through.

"_Arrrrrtiiieeeeeeeee_…"

Artie's hands started shaking so hard, he dropped the keys. He closed his eyes tightly.

"Oh god," he whispered. "Not Amsterdam."

"_Arrrrrttttieeeeee… where are you, you little shit?_"

"Ignore him! Just find the key so we can get out of here!" I hissed. I pushed the keys back into his hands.

"_Arrrrrrttttttiiieeee… I'm _going_ to fiiiiiiind yooooooooou..._"

**BOOM.**

"_And when I do…_"

**BOOM.**

"_I am going to kick"_

**BOOM.**

"_your_"

**BOOM.**

"_ASS._"

There was a scream and two gunshots. The transmission ended.

Artie flipped keys furiously until he found a large silver one. "This is it."

He bent over as far as he could and I stretched my arms and legs out to him. He unlocked both padlocks and the chains fell from my wrists and ankles.

**BOOM.**

There were shouts and gunshots coming from upstairs. I didn't know what was making that booming noise, but it was strong enough to shake the entire building.

"Shit! We have to get out of here," Artie panted. "Amsterdam is wrecking the place and if he finds me, he's going to snap my neck."

He paused and looked into my eyes for a second. "Apologize to him for me too, okay?"

I nodded as though I understood.

I was supposed to know who Berlin, Amsterdam, and Tina were, so I didn't ask the obvious question. Like how Berlin could so convincingly impersonate Wes and get past the fingerprint scanner. Or how Amsterdam could cause an entire house to shake. Or what was so special about Tina that Artie would let me go just so I could get his message to her.

I started to move toward the open metal door, but Artie held a hand out.

"No, we can't go that way." He smacked a button on the wall and another metal door opened. Instead of going up, this ramp led down. He was through the door in seconds and already rolling down the ramp before I could blink. I ran after him.

Except for the smooth paved floor, the tunnel looked like someone had dug it with a shovel. Dim lights lined the ceiling. It twisted and turned and led deeper and deeper underground.

"Wait, where are we going?" I panted. It was hard to keep up with Artie's wheelchair on a downward slope.

"Far the fuck away from here. The getaway car is behind that big warehouse in the backyard, but that's the first place they're gonna go. And if I know Kurt and Blaine as well as I think I do, they probably left as soon as the lights went out."

"So how are we getting out of here?" I asked. It felt like we were running into a grave.

He shrugged. "I have my own underground garage. There's a series of secret tunnels that I never told Kurt about. I have an emergency driver on standby."

"Seriously?"

"If you had enemies like mine, you'd understand."

**BOOM.**

The loudest boom of them all sent dirt raining down on us.

"Shit, they're in the basement," Artie wheezed. I didn't know what we were running from, but it was hard not to panic when he was that terrified.

**BOOM.**

The ground quaked around us and I fell. I slid into the back of the wheelchair and nearly knocked both of us over.

"_You can roll, but you can't hide! Here I come, motherfucker!_"

The booms started coming one after another and the entire tunnel shook.

"Here! Up ahead!" There was a door in front of us. Artie reached forward and punched a code into a small panel. The door slid open and we hurried inside. It slid shut behind us.

I don't what I expected Artie's secret underground lair to look like. We were inside a giant concrete dome with a single computer near the door. There was a giant moat running through the center of it, cutting the room in half. It was full of some kind of green chemical. Clear pipes lined the walls, pumping the chemical from the moat into large barrels that were coming down a conveyor belt.

"I tried to empty the moat earlier so that I could take all of the goo with me in case of an emergency," he explained, as if I knew what he was talking about. "But it's too late. They're going to destroy everything."

There was a guard sitting by the computer. He stood as we approached.

"Mr. Abrams. And guest." He nodded politely to both of us.

"Code Red, Jeeves," Artie said. "Pull up the bridge."

Jeeves hurried over to a lever by the wall and yanked it. A bridge pushed out from the platform on the other side of the moat and slowly started to make its way toward us.

Artie rolled up to the computer and started typing furiously. The booms kept getting louder and closer, but the shaking wasn't as bad now that we were out of the tunnel.

"This isn't the best time to be checking your Facebook."

"I'm not. I'm opening the garage. The bridge and the garage are normally locked up just in case Kurt caught wind of this place."

A large garage door began to open on the other side of the moat.

**BOOM.**

The metal door that we'd entered through bulged inward and cracked down the center like someone had hit it with a battering ram.

"We have to go now!" Artie shrieked.

The bridge was just reaching our side of the moat. Jeeves grabbed the handles of Artie's wheelchair and began to push him across the bridge.

**BOOM.**

The door cracked again, wider this time, and a large gloved hand reached through.

"Artie! I know you're in here!" It was the same creepy, distorted voice from earlier.

Amsterdam.

"Come on! Run!" Artie was screaming at me over his shoulder. "But don't fall in!"

**BOOM.**

The sound of the door squealing in its metal frame snapped me into action. I jumped onto the bridge and started to run after Artie. He was already halfway across and Jeeves was sprinting toward the other end of the bridge at full speed.

The bridge wasn't as sturdy as it looked. Jeeves must have practiced enough to be a pro at running on it. The impact of my jump sent ripples through the interlocking metal pieces and it swayed slightly under my feet. I steadied myself and tried to move as quickly and safely as I could. The green goo bubbled under the bridge. Artie's warning suddenly made a lot of sense. That shit looked super toxic.

**BOOM.**

With a final blow from Amsterdam, the door burst open, sending pieces of debris flying all over the room. A giant chunk of the door frame slammed into the side of the bridge. The bridge swayed violently and I lost my balance. I belly-flopped onto the cold, hard metal and held on for dear life.

I turned my head and that's when I saw Amsterdam for the first time. He was probably one of the largest human beings I'd ever seen and now all of the booming made sense. His fists were the size of my head. He was wearing a silver and black football uniform with a silver motorcycle helmet.

Artie and Jeeves were almost at the end of the bridge.

"Not so fast, buddy!"

Amsterdam lifted his giant fists over his head and in a perfect impression of Donkey Kong, smashed them into the ground.

The force of the blow caused the bridge to buck wildly. The concrete around the moat cracked and the bridge dipped low.

Amsterdam pounded the ground again, causing the bridge to snap. In the split second before the whole thing collapsed, Jeeves shoved Artie's chair hard, toppling it on the other side of the moat. He took a flying leap and landed safely on concrete.

I tried to scramble to my feet but it was too late.

The last thing I saw was Artie's apologetic face. Jeeves had flung him over his shoulder and was running toward the garage door.

And the last thing I heard was Amsterdam's distorted robot voice, screaming for me to jump.

A fraction of a second later, I was plunged deep into the green liquid below.

* * *

><p>It was like being dipped in acid.<p>

As toxic as the substance looked from above, it was nothing compared to how toxic it _felt_. Every single cell in my body was on fire. The pain hit me so hard that I gasped involuntarily, forcing the fire into my lungs. I slammed my eyes closed, but I'd been blinded the second I fell in.

There was no way to swim out of the moat. Every muscle in my body was locked and frozen in place. I couldn't breathe or move to save myself. I couldn't think past the pain. My body twitched violently in fits and starts as I slowly sank deeper and deeper until I hit the moat's concrete bottom.

By the time Artie and Jeeves pulled off in their secret emergency Hummer, I was unconscious.

By the time help finally arrived, I was legally dead.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This chapter changed at least a billion times. I wanted to have it done by Wednesday, but it just kept taking off in crazy directions and I'd get stuck lol. The next one shouldn't take as long to write. Please review and feel free to ask questions if you're confused about what the hell just happened.

Spoiler alert: Santana's not really dead. Well, technically she is, but she won't stay that way.

Sidenote if you care: in my head, this story has three separate subplots that all get connected in the end somehow. Hopefully that all works out. It's pretty interesting (I think).

See you soon! Please review! Feedback helps!


	4. SNIX

**A/N:** Can I just say that I love all of you and I want to hug the internet right now? All the love that you guys are giving this story through reviews, alerts, and favorites makes me so happy. Even if you didn't do any of those things, I appreciate the fact that you are taking the time out to even read it. Your enjoyment of this story both excites and terrifies me. You're all awesome!

Disclaimer: RIB/Fox owns Glee. Original characters are mine, but meh, whatevs.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: S.N.I.X.<strong>

"Hey wait! Stop, stop, stop… do you hear that?"

"I can't hear anything over Amsterdam's _sniffling_."

"Dude. Not cool."

"Seriously, guys. Be quiet for a second and listen. Do you hear that?"

"…holy shit."

"Is that… a heartbeat?"

"No fucking way. That's impossible."

"Well, call the good doctor and tell her to get a bed ready. Looks like we got us a live one."

* * *

><p>I woke up in a blinding white room.<p>

It was the size of a football stadium and it was almost completely empty except for a coffee table and two plush red armchairs.

I was sitting in one chair. Mercedes was sitting in the other. We were both dressed in all white. She was in a frilly sundress and I was in a bleached out Zizes uniform.

_Eternally underdressed._

"Where am I?" I asked, tugging at my uniform.

"You're here," Mercedes said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well duh. Where's here?"

She shrugged. I tried to remember how I got to this place, but all I could remember was that it was an extremely unpleasant journey.

"Am I dead?"

_I'm wearing my uniform so this must be Hell. I wonder if my Abuela's here. She's probably running the place by now._

Mercedes gave me a small, sad smile. "You're not dead anymore, but you could be dead again."

"What does that even mean?" I asked angrily. "Can you answer my questions please?"

"I did," Mercedes huffed. "For now, you're alive. You're still weak though. Your body is fighting."

I sat up in my plush armchair, instantly alarmed.

"How do I fight? I need to fight harder! I don't want to die!"

She shook her head. "No, Santana. You're dying _because_ your body is fighting. It's fighting the changes that are happening and if your body doesn't change, you'll die."

"I don't understand."

"You're always fighting, Santana. You fight everything. Just let go and let the changes happen." She sat back and looked up at the ceiling.

I sighed. "I don't know how to do that."

"Then you'll die." She shrugged without looking down.

"Mercedes, why are you here if you're not gonna help me? And what's so interesting on the freaking ceiling?" I tilted my head back, but the ceiling was no longer white. It was grey cinderblock. I snapped my head down. I wasn't in the giant white room anymore.

I was back in the basement at Kurt's compound. Mercedes was gone. There was a long, thick metal pipe hanging down from the ceiling. Green liquid spewed from the pipe and slowly filled the room.

I tried to jump up, but now there were chains keeping me tightly fastened to the armchair.

"Fuck! No, please! Mercedes!" I screamed. I shook the chair hard, hoping to free myself, but the chains held tight.

The liquid was already at ankle level. It covered my shoes and I could feel it seeping inside. It burned my skin and my legs began to twitch in pain as my muscles seized. I jerked harder against the chains, screaming myself hoarse.

"Help me! Mercedes! Somebody! Please!"

**BOOM.**

The room shook so hard, it momentarily tilted to the side, splashing the green acid all over my legs and thighs. I howled from the pain. From somewhere above, an intercom crackled and a distorted robot voice spoke.

"_Santaaaaanaaaaa…_ _where are you, you little shit?_"

**BOOM.**

* * *

><p>"I don't even know what to do to help her. The morphine seems to be ineffective at managing her pain."<p>

"It's very peculiar. We'll have to keep observing her, but there's not much we can do."

"Do you think she'll make it, Fig?"

"She's made it this far, so there's at least a chance that she'll live. You know as well as I do that the SNIX process can be a fickle mistress."

* * *

><p>I woke up screaming.<p>

Every inch of my body was on fire. My stomach was boiling. I sat up quickly, but moving made everything worse. I forced my eyes open and the blurry shape of a person came into view.

"Mercedes?" I mumbled. My tongue was too hot and too big for my mouth.

"Mercedes, eh? Personally, I'm more of a Ford man."

My eyes began to focus and I could finally see where I was. The room was pretty small. Beeping machines lined the walls, making the space seem even smaller. I was lying in a twin bed with dark green sheets. Someone had dressed me in soft pajama pants and a t-shirt.

This was not a hospital room.

A young Asian woman in scrubs was checking the monitors near me and eyeing me warily, but the guy who'd spoken to me was grinning cheerfully like we were old pals. He was tall and muscular with a shaggy black ponytail and a cocky smirk. He continued speaking, ignoring the fact that I was gritting my teeth against the pain that was ripping my body apart.

"I'm glad you're awake. I hear you've been having a rough time in here. It's Santana, right?"

"Who the h-h-hell are you?" I hissed. The spasms in my muscles were making it difficult to speak. My stomach clenched painfully and I sucked in a deep breath.

"I think that's enough talking for now," the Asian woman said sternly, giving the shaggy haired guy a meaningful look.

"Tina, it's fine. I just wanted to come see for myself that she's okay."

"I s-said-d-d who the hell are y-y-you?" My voice was trembling even worse now as my annoyance increased. "And wh-where am I? This-s-s isn't a h-hospital."

The Asian woman ignored me. "She's not okay. You're agitating my patient. Now stop before you put us all in a dangerous situation."

"Relax, baby. It's fine." He turned to me. "I just wanted to come make sure you were alright. And I want to apologize about what happened at Kurt's."

He took a step toward me, and I scooted back so fast, I scraped my back painfully against the headboard.

"G-get the f-f-fuck away from me," I growled. The tremors in my arms were violent and my muscles were cramping painfully. "I mean it!"

I looked down at my quivering body. My upper arms were wrapped in ACE bandages, but my forearms were left bare. The skin was a raw, angry red like someone had rubbed it with sandpaper. The sight shocked me. My breath became choppy and ragged. A soft humming sound was coming from somewhere nearby.

_What happened to me? Where am I? What did they do to me?_

"Calm down, I just want to talk to you." He took another step toward me and held his hand out.

"D-don't touch m-me!" I shrieked. The edges of my vision started to get hazy. I tried to blink away the white film that was covering everything, but it just got worse.

A few of the machines started beeping wildly. The Asian woman, Tina, put her clipboard down and stood up. Her movement startled me and the soft humming in my ears grew louder.

"Get out! Now!" she yelled, pointing at the door. "You're going to get us all killed!"

"St-stop yelling!" I gripped the edges of the bed with both hands and dug my heels into the mattress, trying to stop the tremors. "And back up-p!"

"Hey, take a deep breath," the guy said. He didn't move back. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

The door opened and a tall black guy walked in.

"Hey, what's going on in here? Who's screaming?"

"Ben, don't come in here. It'll be okay if everybody would just fucking _leave_." Tina turned to me. "Santana, I need you to calm down. _Please_. Just take a deep breath."

The bed started to shake underneath me. My skin was blazing now and my muscles were rigid. My vision was almost completely white and I could barely see. The humming sound turned into a loud, angry buzz.

"Holy shit," the black guy whispered. "Look at her eyes!"

"Wh-what's happening to m-me?" I screamed.

"Everyone, get out now!"

The black guy's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "She's charging up. Come on, Tina. Let's get out of here. If this dumbass wants to get blasted apart, let him."

"Dude, shut up! I can calm her down! Just give me a minute to talk to her!" The shaggy haired guy stepped forward again.

I felt a hand grab my wrist. White hot pain shot through my entire body.

"Noah! Don't!"

My vision went completely white. Someone screamed.

Then everything went black.

* * *

><p>"What's up, Baby Figgins?"<p>

"Hey, Tina. I just saw Puck's head. Is he gonna be alright?"

"He's gonna be fine. He just got a very, very low haircut with a high-powered laser. She only grazed him."

"And what about her?"

"Actually, I think she's doing better now. She needed to let some of that energy out. I think the lacerations on her skin were coming from the excess energy her body was storing. She's had fewer injuries today."

"Is she ever going to wake up?"

"I think so. We'll give her a few more days to wake up naturally. Then we'll worry."

* * *

><p>I woke up in the blinding white room again.<p>

Same coffee table. Same chairs.

"Where's Mercedes?" I asked.

Brittany Star of My Dreams Pierce shrugged and grinned back at me, tossing her long blond hair over her shoulder.

"Is this a dream?" I asked. "I keep waking up, but I don't know what's real. Sometimes I can only hear voices. I don't know what's going on."

"This is all in your head," Brittany nodded. She crossed her mile-long legs and I couldn't help but follow the movement with my eyes. I looked up quickly to see if she'd noticed my leering.

She winked.

"Your body's resting right now."

"So I take it I'm not dead then."

"Far from it," she smirked. "In fact, I'd say you're better than ever."

"How so?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Let's just say there have been some… upgrades. Personally, I kinda like them."

"Upgrades? Like what?"

She stood up from her armchair, walked across the coffee table, and plopped heavily into my lap. I sat still, stunned and unmoving.

"Did you feel that?"

I didn't understand what she meant at first, but then it dawned on me. Yes, I felt the pressure of her sitting on me, but the way she dropped into my lap probably should've hurt or at least felt slightly unpleasant. It didn't. I slowly shook my head. She grinned and nodded.

"See?" She ran her hand gently up and down my bicep. "You're so much stronger now. And that's just the beginning. It's gonna take some getting used to…" She leaned in close to my ear like she'd done at the bar so many moons ago. "But I think you're up for the challenge."

I could barely think with her so close to me. Even if she was only a figment of my imagination, she was still Brittany and she was still sitting on my lap.

She slapped her hand down on the arm of the chair. "Enough talk! I think you're ready to wake up now. For good."

"Wake up? How am I supposed to do that?" I crossed my arms and pouted like a toddler. "I just want this whole thing to be over. I'm tired of being confused. I'm tired of feeling like shit. And I'm tired of this uniform. Even in semi-death I can't escape it."

She laughed softly and smiled at me. "Don't worry. Your subconscious knows what it's doing. Your brain put me here because you knew it was the right time and that you'd need help waking up."

She grabbed my chin and turned my face towards her.

"So let me help you."

Then she gently pressed her lips to mine.

* * *

><p>I woke up gasping for air.<p>

My heart was racing in my chest. I stared up at the dull grey ceiling, trying to catch my breath. As my breathing slowed, I noticed my skin wasn't burning. It felt tight and slightly warm, but it was nowhere near the searing pain that had been burning me since… I didn't even know how much time had passed.

_Where am I? _When _am I?_

I sat up in bed and I was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness.

"Slow down there, you don't want to make yourself sick."

I looked around. It was the same room I'd woken up in a few times before, shaking and screaming until I passed out from pain. Tina was there, like always, checking the machines and scribbling on her chart. But this time, an older Indian man was sitting in the chair next to the bed, reading a book. He put his book down and stood up.

"Hello, Santana," he said in a soft, lightly accented voice. "How are you feeling today?"

_Hmmm… I think I feel confused and impolite._

"Who are you?" I asked bluntly. "And where am I?"

His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded.

"My name is Dr. Rajesh Figgins."

Tina stood up and moved around the bed to stand next to him.

"And I'm Dr. Tina Cohen-Chang."

"You're in the medical wing of our laboratory," Figgins said, gesturing to the room behind him. "Dr. Cohen-Chang here has been taking excellent care of you."

Tina smiled. "I try."

"What happened to me? How did I even get here?" There was no time for pleasantries or small talk. None of that mattered.

Figgins and Tina looked at each other and seemed to have a brief silent conversation before looking back at me.

"Santana," Tina said softly, "what exactly do you remember about what happened to you?"

"I don't know… not much," I admitted.

"Think about it for a second," Figgins suggested.

I closed my eyes for a minute and tried to think back through the hazy semi-conscious half-dreams to find something that I knew was 100% real.

_Truck. Guns. Suits. Basements. Wheelchairs. Green. Burning. Pain. Pain. Pain._

**BOOM.**

My head snapped up and I opened my eyes. My vision was almost completely white. I could feel my hands cramping into fists in my lap.

"Santana," Tina said sternly. "Stop. Calm down."

I took in a deep, gasping breath and shook my head, hard. My vision returned to normal and I slowly opened my shaking hands, laying them flat on my thighs.

Figgins looked down at my hands, shaking his head.

"Oh dear. This is going to be more difficult than I imagined."

Tina walked back to the monitors and started fiddling with some knobs on the machines. "Try to stay calm, Santana. If you get angry or scared, just take a deep breath and close your eyes, okay?"

I didn't know why I was supposed to trust her, but at least she seemed like she wanted to help me. I figured I'd get the answers to my questions before I started being an ungrateful bitch.

"How about you ask me what you want to know and I'll try to answer it to the best of my ability, hmm?" Figgins pulled his chair over to the side of the bed and sat down.

"We can talk about things you remember," Tina said calmly. I knew her tone was supposed to make me relax and that pissed me off even more. "What do you want to know? We'll tell you everything, I promise."

"How long have I been here?" I asked.

_Surely, this is an easy question._

"You were brought into this facility two weeks ago," Figgins said.

"Two weeks?" I shouted. I almost jumped out of the bed. "I've been knocked out for two entire weeks?"

Tina gave me a look that meant 'calm the hell down', so I settled back down on the bed.

"When they pulled you out of the Goo, you were dead," Tina replied. "But once they started heading back to the lab, they realized your heart had started again. You've been in and out of consciousness since then, but your body needed to shut down in order to recover from the trauma."

"Who are 'they'?" I racked my brain, trying to remember who was around when I'd fallen in the moat. "Artie?"

Tina rolled her eyes so hard, I thought she was going to hurt herself. "No. Definitely not Artie. Our team pulled you out. You can meet the guys later."

_I don't want to meet the guys. I just want to know what the heck happened._

"What happened to me? I fell into this green stuff and…" I shuddered at the memory of fire under my skin. The edges of my vision turned milky and my fingers twitched.

Tina snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Santana. Breathe."

I inhaled deeply through my nose. The whiteness slowly faded.

"Why does that keep happening? What _is_ that?" The fear and anxiety came through loud and clear in my voice. "You said I died. Why did I die? What did I fall into?"

"You fell into a special chemical I developed as part of our research," Figgins said.

"Research?"

"Yes. For years, we've been trying to develop new methods to reverse the effects of aggressive cancers. We wanted to find a way to quickly repair severely damaged cells in the body. Five years ago, we had a breakthrough. That chemical, the Goo, is the result of our research efforts."

"And that's what I fell into?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Why unfortunately?" I asked. "You basically just told me that you cured cancer. So if I didn't have cancer and I fell into a vat of your 'Goo', I should be fine, right?"

No one spoke.

"Right?"

Figgins smiled tightly. "You would think so. However, it doesn't actually work that way. You see, when we use the Goo, we place it _near_ the patient in a special chamber, not _on_ the patient. It was never meant to come in contact with human skin, let alone be _ingested_."

"When the Goo comes in contact with human tissue, a process call SNIX occurs," Tina said.

"SNIX?"

Tina pulled out her chart over and scribbled "subnuclear internal expansion" in the margins of one of the pages.

"Sub who? What the hell does that mean?"

"Basically, the Goo causes your cells to expand until they explode," Tina stated simply. "SNIX is a very unpredictable process. It took us a while to figure out a way to cure people without killing or maiming them. You're very lucky to be alive and uninjured."

"That doesn't explain this weirdness with my eyes and hands," I pointed out.

"Well that's the other thing," Tina said. "There's a reason why you haven't heard about a cure for cancer."

"As it turns out, the Goo had some… unintended side effects," Figgins said.

Dream Brittany's words floated around in my brain and I cringed.

"_Let's just say there have been some… upgrades."_

_Since when are upgrades and unintended side effects the same thing?_

"The Goo is an extremely powerful substance," Figgins explained. "It's highly restorative. We realized that we'd developed a cure-all of sorts. During our experiments, we cured cancers, reversed brain damage. Hell, we regenerated missing limbs."

"But…" I prompted.

"But we realized that the Goo makes drastic changes to the human body. It causes its own genetic mutations that… how do I say this?" He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

Tina patted Figgins on the shoulder lightly and decided to take over.

"Santana, have you ever heard of the X-Men?" she asked kindly.

"Yeah, everybody has," I said.

"And what do you know about the X-Men?"

I shrugged. "They're mutants. They have some weird mutant gene that gives them super powers. What the hell does that have to do with…"

A light bulb went off in my head. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly.

_Causes its own genetic mutations. Unintended side effects. Upgrades._

"Oh dear god. Please tell me you are joking."

"I wish we were."

"Please tell me that I didn't fall into some radioactive green shit that turned me into a fucking mutant freak."

"Well, I wouldn't say it with so much profanity, but that's essentially what the Goo does," Figgins said.

I was off the bed before I even realized it. I grabbed Figgins by the lapels of his jacket, lifted him out of the chair, and slammed him into the wall. His eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"Santana!" Tina yelled. "Stop! You're going to hurt him!"

"Hurt him?" I screeched. "What about me? What about what you did to _me_?"

I slammed him against the wall again and he cried out in pain. My vision was slowly turning white again and the obnoxious buzzing sound was back.

"Why would you make something like that? Huh?" I screamed into his face. "Do you like ruining people's lives? Do you _like_ playing God?"

I slammed him into the wall so hard the plaster behind him cracked.

"Santana, please!" Figgins wailed.

Two large arms wrapped around my middle, pinning my arms to my sides and lifting me off my feet.

"Okay, playtime's over!" I couldn't see him, but I could tell it was the shaggy haired guy from before. The one that didn't respect personal space. I tried to break free, but his arms weren't budging.

Suddenly, the room was full of people.

"Baby Figgins, get him out of here please."

"Uncle Raj, come with me."

"Take this ice pack for his head."

"Puck, be careful. Don't squeeze her to death."

An Indian kid was leading Figgins out of the room, while the black guy and a Hispanic guy I'd never seen before stood by, looking like they would jump in if I tried to fight back.

"Three against one, guys?" I growled angrily. "Real classy. Can you put me down now?"

"If you calm down, Puck will let you go," the Hispanic guy said.

"And can you _please_ close your eyes? It's creepy," the black guy said, stepping out of my direct line of sight.

I huffed angrily and closed my eyes.

"Open your palms," he added. "Shake them out."

I shook my hands and wiggled my fingers.

"Did the buzzing stop?"

I nodded.

"Good. Puck, put her down."

Puck put me back on the ground and I shoved him away angrily. I sat down in Figgins's chair and looked at the floor.

_Great, now I'm acting like a toddler in front of a room of strangers. Hooray for first impressions._

The Hispanic guy sat down and scooted over so that he was sitting right next to me. I was still looking down at the floor, so he stuck his hand in front of my face.

"Hi. I'm David Martinez."

I stared at his hand for a moment, then shook it. "Santana Lopez."

"I know. We've met before."

I looked up at him quizzically. "When?"

He took his hand and slowly slid it down his face. As his hand moved, his skin and features transformed. By the time he returned his hand to his lap, he looked exactly like Wes, the angry Asian guy from Kurt's house.

"Holy shit," I gasped. I slid my chair away from him toward the wall. "How are you doing that?"

He gave his head a hard shake and his face returned to normal.

"I have special abilities just like you," he said kindly. "We all do."

He gestured toward the other two guys. Puck sat down on my bed and gave a small wave. Instead of the shaggy ponytail he'd had the last time I saw him, he was sporting a Mohawk. There was a large white bandage taped to the side of his head.

"Noah Puckerman. But you can call me Puck."

"Hi, Puck. Have we met before?"

"Oh, once or twice." He frowned. "I kinda sorta maybe knocked the bridge down in Artie's basement."

Before I could move to jump out of my chair and choke him, the black guy was standing in front of me.

"Don't," he said. I settled back down in my chair, eyes wide.

_How the hell did he get over here that quick? I guess I know what his "special ability" is._

"Open your hands," he continued. "Lay them flat on your thighs. Spread your fingers apart."

"What's your obsession with my hands?" I muttered, following his instructions.

"You've got a short fuse. You're about to blow this place sky high because you can't control yourself."

"Manners, Ben. You should at least introduce yourself before you get all surly," David smirked.

Ben glared at David, then turned back to me.

"Benjamin Reed."

"And you're fast? Is that your super power?"

"Super power?" he laughed. "Sure, if that's what you want to call it."

I settled back into my chair, letting him know that I wasn't going to jump up any time soon. He sat down on the bed next to Puck.

"So let me get this straight." I pointed to each of them in turn. "You're super fast. You can turn into other people. And what's your power? Ruining people's lives and being an asshole?"

Puck turned red while the other two snickered.

"I deserve that," he said quietly. "But honestly, I didn't see you on the bridge until it was too late. I was pretty focused on wringing Benedict Artie's neck."

He looked straight into my eyes.

"I'm really, really sorry. I know it's different for you than it is for us. I know I probably ruined your life. But I promise if there's anything that I can do, that any of us can do, we're all here to help you deal."

_I really don't want to see a grown man cry today._

I nodded, mostly because I wanted him to stop talking and looking at me with sad puppy eyes.

He cleared his throat. "But to answer your question, my main ability is superhuman strength."

"_Main_ ability?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, we all have a few tricks up our sleeves," he grinned.

"So what tricks do I have up my sleeves?" I asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Maybe it's time for a little demonstration," David suggested.

"Not in here!" Tina pointed to the door. "Take her outside and please be careful. Puck almost lost his head last time. And I don't think even the Goo could fix that."

The guys led me out of the room and into a long corridor. We passed rooms filled with lab equipment and beakers full of boiling green liquid. Every time I thought about the stupid green Goo, I flinched. It's not an experience I really wanted to remember, but I couldn't seem to get it out of my head.

The corridor opened up into a room the size of an airport terminal. Large computers lined the walls. Different screens and displays flashed rapidly as we walked by. I spotted my name on several of them, but we were walking so fast that I couldn't make out anything else.

Ben hit a button on the wall and a set of large double doors opened to the outside world. I don't know what I expected to see, probably some sort of civilization. A road, another building, cars, something. But once again, we were in the middle of nowhere. We walked out into the middle of a grassy field. A nearby river wandered off into the hills, and behind that, the largest mountain I'd ever seen loomed over us, looking really fucking majestic.

David smiled as I stared in awe. "Mount McKinley. Highest mountain in North America."

"Whoa."

"Yeah, whoa." He nodded in agreement.

Puck clapped his hands together. "So, let's get this show on the road."

The three of them looked at me expectantly.

"Don't look at me! I don't even know how this stuff is supposed to work!"

"Ben, her power seems to be more like yours than either of ours," David said. "Perhaps you can show her what to do."

Ben rolled his eyes and reluctantly walked over to me, muttering something about a loose cannon.

_I'm really starting to not like this guy. He's ruder than I am._

He stood beside me and held his hands out in front of him. He looked at me expectantly and I raised my hands as well.

"Concentrate on your hands," he said, sounding bored. "The rest of your body doesn't exist. Aim for those trees."

I fought the urge to say something sarcastic and tried to do what he said. Nothing happened.

"Unless you want to hurt yourself, I suggest you hold your arms out straight."

_Rude. Now I really don't like this guy._

I straightened my arms and scowled. A tiny tingle started to creep up my arms and my fingers curled at the sensation. It tickled.

"You're gonna blow your hands off if you don't uncurl your fingers."

I huffed and straightened my fingers. The low hum that I'd heard earlier started up again. My vision started to blur and I blinked to clear it.

"You're boring me, kid. Are you even concentrating? Maybe the Goo didn't take. You wanna take another swim and try again?"

A violent tremor ripped through my body. My vision doubled and faded.

"Keep your arms straight. Are you deaf or just stupid?"

"Stop."

I didn't recognize the sound of my own voice as it came out of my mouth. David and Puck took a step away from me.

"Stop what? Maybe I'll _stop_ when you show me something instead of just standing there like-"

Energy surged through my body from the tips of my toes, up through my spine, into my arms and hands. I roared in a fit of rage and turned in his direction. He was gone before I'd even turned halfway. Twin beams of white light shot from the palms of my hands and scorched the ground where he'd been standing a second earlier.

"Oh my god!" I screamed, instinctively jumping back. The white light was streaming out of my hands, setting fire to the grass beside me. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. My arms were vibrating as the energy continued to flow through my body. I swung my arms wildly, trying to stop the flow somehow, but it wouldn't stop.

Dark hands grabbed my elbows, straightened out my arms, and dragged me away from the burning grass.

"Wait! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

"How do I turn this shit off?" I howled. "Make it stop!"

He grabbed both of my wrists tightly and pressed his thumbs the back of my hands. Slowly, the beams of light diminished and retreated back into my palms.

"What are you doing?" I whispered. He ignored me.

When the beams were only a few inches long, he turned my wrists skyward.

"Do this," he said, curling his fingers as if he were holding a softball.

I mimicked his movement and the beam of light transformed into a large white shimmering ball.

"You have to turn the beam off before you close your hand. Otherwise, you'll cut off your fingers. Now, take a deep breath and blow them out like birthday candles."

I inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled over my hands with my mouth. The balls of light grew fainter and fainter until the disappeared completely.

I stared at my hands like I'd never seen them before. Ben nodded in approval.

"Not bad for a first time. You have all your limbs, so that's something."

_That almost sounded like a compliment._

"Dude!" Puck smacked me hard on the shoulder. "That was epic!"

"Nicely done," David said, smiling broadly. "Ben has a lot to teach you."

Ben's head whipped around to give David a death glare. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You're the only one who knows anything about beams." David shrugged.

"Yeah, we're not gonna be much help in that department," Puck said.

Ben sighed. "Fine. Whatever."

He turned toward the burning grass and stuck his hand out. The fire leapt up from the ground toward his palm and with a loud sucking sound, the flames disappeared into his forearm.

He smirked at my shocked expression. "_That's_ my main ability."

"I wonder what else you can do," Puck said, poking me in the shoulder. "You've got hand beams, eye beams-"

"Eye beams?" I asked incredulously.

He tapped the bandage on the side of his head. "You're the one that gave me this awesome new haircut. Then you passed out."

"Eye beams," I repeated.

_So that explains the whole white vision thing._

"Yup, eye beams."

"It was pretty cool to watch," David said.

"Easy for you to say," Puck snapped. "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to grow hair on this side of my head again."

"Don't listen to him. He's exaggerating," David whispered loudly.

"You're lucky she didn't get your face, genius," Ben laughed. "Next time, listen to your girlfriend when she tells you to get out."

Puck rolled his eyes. "She's never going to let me forget it. But she totally digs the new 'do. Mohawks are hot."

Ben turned toward the building. "Enough messing around, I'm starving."

We started to follow Ben into the building, but as I took a final look at Mount McKinley, I remembered something very important.

"So where exactly are we?"

"Southern Alaska," David said over his shoulder.

"I don't suppose one of you can give me a ride home?" I asked in my most polite voice.

Ben laughed. "Home? Not gonna happen, kid."

"Why not?" I demanded. "You can't keep me here. Kidnapping is a felony. And frankly, being kidnapped twice in a row is all kinds of wrong. So you have to take me back to Ohio. Now. Well, we can eat first, but I prefer now. Make me a to-go plate."

Ben stopped walking to face me.

"Ever since you got here, you've had some weird Incredible Hulk shit going on. I don't know if it's because you got SNIX'd or what, but your abilities shouldn't be triggered by emotions. That's not normal. We can't send you back to Ohio in your condition. You're gonna blow up half the state if somebody looks at you the wrong way."

"So I'll take a Xanax and do some yoga. It'll be fine," I said, waving my hand dismissively.

"You almost beheaded me because you were scared and confused," Puck added.

"Don't worry," David said, taking my hand. "We'll figure it out. We just don't want anybody to get hurt."

I wanted to argue, but they were right. I didn't have the best track record. They didn't even know that I'd almost eye beamed Tina and Figgins after just thinking about what had happened to me.

_I can't go back home like this. What if I hurt Mercedes or Sam? Or Brittany?_

"Okay," I said, resigned. "Fine. But I'm not sleeping in that hospital bed. The sheets are itchy."

Puck turned back toward the house. "You probably won't be sleeping anytime soon."

I narrowed my eyes at his back. "Was that supposed to be sexual or are you serious?"

They all laughed and followed Puck inside.

"Sleep is for the weak, Santana," he called over his shoulder. "You won't need it as much anymore."

"You can sleep when you're dead," Ben said, ushering me inside.

"Been there," I muttered under my breath. "Done that."

* * *

><p>Since I wasn't hungry, I decided to explore McKinley Headquarters a little while everyone was eating.<p>

"You might not be hungry or sleepy for a few days," Tina said. "It's normal."

_I don't think 'normal' accurately describes this situation, but thanks for the info._

The large area we'd passed through earlier held the most interesting items in the building. An entire side of the room was lined with computer screens. Another area of the room contained several sports cars and small planes. In the far corner, near a giant set of double doors, a life-size replica of Optimus Prime sat cross-legged on the floor.

I passed the large wall of computer screens. Some of them were grouped together, but all of them displayed different information. That's when I noticed a giant picture of my face looking down at me from the top row of screens. The screens on the top row stuck out a little farther from the wall and angled down so that they could be read clearly. Each one had a different person's picture and a bunch of rapidly changing numbers. I stepped closer so that I could read them.

Arthur Abrams (Roosevelt), Junior Researcher

Dr. Tina Cohen-Chang (House), Researcher

Dr. Rajesh Figgins (McKinley), Head Researcher

Himanshu Figgins (Optimus), Engineer

Jacob Ben Israel (Megazord), Engineer

Santana Lopez, Patient

David Martinez (Berlin), Participant #45

Noah Puckerman (Amsterdam), Participant #46

Benjamin Reed (Cairo), Participant #44

Two of the screens had been vandalized. Someone had drawn a mustache and boobs on Jacob Ben Israel and Artie. They both had about 5 different cartoon weapons sticking out of their heads.

"This is the Vitals Board," a voice said from behind me.

I jumped and turned. Himanshu, the Indian kid who had helped Figgins after my meltdown, was standing behind me. He was Figgins's nephew. We'd met briefly in the dining area while he cooked dinner for everyone. I could tell he had some kind of weird little crush on me, but I had enough problems without adding _that_ shit to my life, so I was choosing to ignore it.

"It shows your heart rate, your blood pressure, and a bunch of other good stuff. We like to keep track of the whole team, make sure everyone is okay. And I guess knowing if Artie and Jacob are still alive is somewhat useful, too."

"Looks like somebody doesn't like Artie or Jacob very much," I noted.

"You mean Benedict Artie and Judas Ben Israel?" he laughed. "Nope. A cartoon knife in the head doesn't make up for the knife in our backs."

I wiggled my eyebrows. "Oooh drama! Tell me more!"

"That's a story for someone else to tell," he said with a shrug. He walked up to one of the black screens and touched it, bringing it to life. "I only know bits and pieces. Let's see what's going on in your neck of the woods, eh?"

He tapped through a few screens, brought up Facebook, and proceeded to log in as me.

"Hey!" I covered the screen with my hand. "What are you doing? How do you even know my password?"

"Lady, I built a life-size working replica of Optimus Prime," he said, pointing to the giant robot sitting in the corner. "I think I can hack Facebook."

Something caught my eye as he scrolled down my newsfeed.

'Mercedes Jones changed the time of A Candle Light Vigil for Santana Lopez.'

I grabbed Himanshu's hand. "Hey wait a sec! What's that event? Click on that!"

The description read "Join us as we come together to show support for the family and friends of Santana Lopez. Santana, we know you're out there and we pray every day that you'll come home soon."

It hadn't occurred to me that people in Lima would think that something horrible happened to me.

_Something horrible _did_ happen to you. You can't even think about it without freaking out. Learn to control yourself so you can leave and go back to your normal life._

"This event is in a few days," I told Himanshu. "I know I won't be ready to go home by then, but I want to go and watch."

His eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder for some kind of help.

"Your probationary period is two weeks. But I'm sure if you're stable enough to go outside without exploding, they'll take you."

He started scrolling rapidly through the event's wall. People who I hadn't talked to in years and people I didn't actually like posted hopeful messages for my parents and Mercedes. It wasn't clear how involved my parents actually were in planning the whole thing, but my instincts told me that Mercedes was the mastermind behind all of it. My parents acknowledging my absence would require them to first acknowledge my existence.

Right before Himanshu closed the event and returned to my newsfeed, I saw the first post on the event's wall and I couldn't help but flail internally.

"I'll be there. Stay strong, Mercedes."

-Brittany S. Pierce.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Still with me? I hope so :) This chapter took off in a different direction than I intended so I had to cut it off somewhere.

Next chapter:  
>-learning how to not blow yourself up<br>-an awkward candlelight vigil  
>-Brittana reunion!<br>-superhero stuff! (finally)

Please review! Positive, negative, questions, comments- it's all good, baby. Believe it or not, your feedback has already changed the course of this story. Thank for your time :)

Gracias!

-LateInLifeTiburón


	5. Vigil

**A/N:** Ok, so… remind me never to tell you in advance what's going to be in the next chapter because that pretty much guarantees that it won't happen.

Originally, Chapter 5 was supposed to include all of things I mentioned in my last author's note. Unfortunately, Real-Life-Serious-Business reared its ugly head (funeral, moved to another state, apartment hunting, etc.) And then I actually wrote this chapter and it's so fucking long that my brain doesn't understand what happened. The problem with this story is that it's complicated as fuck for no real reason. So there are a bunch of things that "must be done" before other things can happen. And if I somehow forget to mention a plot point, it screws up a bunch of stuff. (Why did I do this to myself?)

So I did what I originally should have done and split it into two chapters. Chapter 6 _**will**_ have the Brittana reunion and hopefully I will have that out to you ASAP.

FYI: PA stands for "public address." A small PA system is just a microphone, an amp, and some speakers. So when you see that, that's what it means.

Songs in this chapter:  
>-"Here Today" by Paul McCartney<br>-"Smile" by Charlie Chaplin. I prefer the Glee Cast version to the Michael Jackson version (I know, blasphemy)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Fox/RIB owns Glee and the songs are owned by their artists.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Vigil<strong>

The day after I woke up from my Goo coma, Figgins took pity on me and moved us all closer to Ohio so that I would stop moping around the compound. We packed up all of our essentials and moved into McKinley 6, a smaller laboratory on the Canadian shore of Lake Superior.

"It's your big day," David said, smiling at me from across the breakfast table.

"Yeah, how many people get to go to their own candlelight vigil?" I muttered, buttering one of Tina's homemade blueberry muffins. "I'm just happy that I'll get to see other people besides you jokers for a change."

As much as I wanted to go to the vigil, I had enough common sense to realize it wasn't going to be a happy occasion. But the prospect of seeing familiar faces was the only thing I had to look forward to these days. I needed things to get back to normal and I really wanted to see my friends again.

My appetite had finally come back, and I could sleep for short periods of time. Unfortunately, nightmares about burning alive in basements kept me from getting any real rest.

"Not so fast there, killer." Ben walked in, plucked the muffin out of my hand, and took a big bite. "You still have to pass your final test."

I rolled my eyes at Ben, but didn't say anything. Ben was constantly trying to piss me off in order to "test my control". And since he was in charge of my training, he got the final say in whether or not I was allowed to go to the vigil. I was on to his game now and I passed most of his impromptu tests with flying colors.

_Fuck that muffin. You don't care about that muffin. Let him eat the muffin. You can get another muffin._

He took another bite of my muffin and waited for my reaction. When he didn't get one, he smiled, handed me another muffin, and said "well done."

_Asshole._

Puck walked in carrying an iPad, which he dropped on top of Himanshu's breakfast.

"Hey!" Himanshu yelled, pushing the iPad off of his scrambled eggs.

"Hot off the presses, H-Dawg," Puck laughed, walking to the stove to load up a plate of food. "You're gonna love today's headline in The Lima Times."

The team had been tracking Ohio's largest newspapers to find any strange occurrences that would indicate that Kurt was still in the area. I wasn't sure why they cared about Kurt, so I decided to mind my own business. I needed to keep training so that I could eventually go home, leaving them to whatever it was they normally did.

Himanshu picked up the iPad, looking quizzically at Puck's back, and began to scroll through whatever was on the screen. As he read, his face slowly changed from his normal excited puppy expression to pure rage.

"That asshole!" he shouted. "That freaking jerk! The next time I see him-"

Figgins stuck his head inside the door from the hallway. "Himanshu, language! And please, no ranting at the table."

"Sorry, Uncle Raj." Himanshu pushed the iPad away and picked up his fork, angrily stabbing at his breakfast potatoes.

I snatched the iPad off the table. "What's wrong, Baby Figgins? Did Lucy move Charlie Brown's football again?"

Himanshu blushed and I fought the urge to laugh. He hated the name Baby Figgins and he'd always glare daggers at anyone who called him that, but whenever I said it, he'd just blush and look away.

_He's gonna be crushed when he finds out how gay I am._

I scrolled to the top of the article.

"Lima's Finntastic Solution?"

By Quinn Fabray

Before I even read the photo credit, I could tell the picture was one of Brittany's.

In the photo, several officers from the Lima Police Department were smiling brightly, posing in front of the courthouse. They were all standing around another cop, who was wearing a weird robot suit that looked like a cross between Iron Man and a Terminator. His helmet was tucked under his arm and his hair was neatly combed. They were all wearing their best shit-eating grins.

To the casual Lima Times reader, it would've been a normal picture of happy cops and a mini-Transformer, loving life and doing their civic duty. But I'd spent six months discussing Brittany's photos with her at the bar. It wouldn't be a Brittany S. Pierce photo without subtext. So maybe the casual reader wouldn't have picked up on the fact that the cops were standing in the shadow of the courthouse's giant statue of Lady Justice, but I did.

_Dirty cops. Nice one, Brittany._

According to the article, Mayor Schuester had purchased a robot suit for the police department to help reduce crime in Lima. The robot's operator, Officer Finn Hudson, had only been on the job for a few weeks and he had already exceeded the department's expectations. The people of Lima were treating him like a local superhero and had dubbed him "Mr. Finntastic." If the super suit performed well during the next few months, Mayor Schuester promised more high tech upgrades for the Lima PD.

While Brittany's picture was a subtle dig at corruption in the Lima Police Department, Quinn's article was anything but subtle. She came right out and said that Mr. Finntastic might have a hard time putting a dent in the crime statistics since most of Lima's problems stemmed from the fact that the cops were in bed with organized crime leaders. She managed to rip Mayor Schuester, Police Chief Ken Tanaka, and the entire police department a new asshole just by stating the facts and going over the department's scandalous track record. It wasn't unprofessional or biased. It was all true, which made it _hilarious_.

"Way to go, Mean," I chuckled under my breath. "You tell 'em."

Brittany and Quinn were easily the best writer/photographer pair at The Lima Times. Brittany's pictures were truly worth a thousand words, and Quinn spelled out the thousand words for the people who were too stupid to understand the pictures. Neither of them ever pulled punches.

I'd completely forgotten that Himanshu was raging across the table from me until I read the last paragraph of the article. It described how the billionaire mayor purchased the robot suit from its creator, Ohio State University alumnus Jacob Ben Israel.

"Wait a sec," I said pointing to the line in the article. "This is Jacob's robot suit?"

"No!" Himanshu fumed. He pushed his empty plate away and stood up, pointing at the iPad angrily. "It's _our_ robot suit! I designed it and Jacob helped me build it after Artie left, while Uncle Raj and Tina… um, I mean while the project was on hiatus."

Everyone in the room was glaring at him. He sat back down in his chair and started playing with his napkin until everyone went back their breakfasts.

_I don't even want to know what that's about._

"So if you designed it, why isn't your name in the article?" I asked, trying to break the awkward tension.

"Because Jacob stole the suit and ran off six months ago," Himanshu said, sounding more tired than angry now that his rant was over. "We woke up one morning at McKinley 5 and he was gone. Took all of the blueprints and everything. Bastard."

"It says they unveiled the suit a couple of weeks ago. How'd you miss that?" I asked. I scrolled down to the related articles and clicked on "Lima's New Super Cop Makes Debut During Bank Robbery."

Puck shrugged. "We weren't checking Ohio papers until after you woke up. We spent a lot of time in Kentucky, chasing Blaine through the fucking woods."

"There was a press conference on the day I was kidnapped," I said, skimming through the article. "The police department unveiled the super suit there. It looks like Finntastic stopped a bank robbery that same day at… what the hell?"

"What's wrong?" Tina asked, peering over my shoulder. I passed her the iPad.

"Finntastic stopped a robbery at the First National Bank of Lima around the time Blaine carjacked me. I mean, it's probably a coincidence, but that's really weird. I didn't see any cops outside or anything. If I had, I would've made a run for it."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "You're right. That is weird."

"You know what else is weird?" Tina said, tapping the screen rapidly. "There are quite a few articles about Finntastic from the last few weeks, but there aren't any articles about your disappearance."

Ben laughed. "That's not weird. 'Poor minority woman goes missing' or 'Robocop saves your money from vicious thieves"? Which headline do you think is gonna sell more papers?"

I frowned. "Hey! I'm not 'poor.' I prefer the term 'financially lacking.' And fuck the newspaper, people care that I'm missing. I think. At least Mercedes does."

"Oh right!" David snapped his fingers and started clearing the table. "Let's get that test out of the way, so you and Puck can get ready to go."

Ben clapped and stood up from the table. "You ready?"

"Oh, I'm so ready." I grinned and cracked my knuckles. "Do your worst."

* * *

><p>Ben's annoying mini-control tests were nothing compared to the <em>real<em> control tests.

During my first control test, David had turned himself into Ben. With two obnoxious Bens yelling in my face, it didn't take long for me to fail the test and try to blow them both up with my laser eyes of death.

After we found out I had some super strength, Puck ran me over with a pickup truck. He was really pissed off when he had to fish it out of Lake Superior the next morning.

Another test involved Ben throwing fire balls at me every time I swore.

That's what we'd been doing _all day_ _every day_.

It made me wish that I'd listened to Mercedes when she told me to go to anger management.

"Okay," Ben said, glancing at each of us. "This is test is pass/fail. If you pass, you can go to the vigil. Remember everything we've been teaching you and don't lose your cool."

"Yeah, yeah, get on with it," I said, waving my hand at him. "Let's get this show on the road."

Ben, David, Puck, and I were sitting on the ground in a small clearing in the Canadian wilderness. They sat across from me in a line, looking entirely too serious. Puck looked especially nervous.

"Close your eyes," David said. I closed my eyes and leaned back on my hands. "The test begins now."

It was quiet for several minutes. I was starting to wonder if they planned a massive game of Hide and Seek for the test. That was sure to annoy me enough to make me fail.

**BOOM.**

My eyes snapped open and I jumped off the ground, scrambling backwards. One of Puck's fists, which was now the size of a turkey, lay clenched on the ground in front of him while the other fist was raised above his head, ready to drop.

"No!" I shouted, pointing accusingly at Puck. "That's not fair! You said you wouldn't do that!" My vision was clouding rapidly and the buzzing in my ears was almost drowning out my own voice.

_Of course the test would involve the one thing I can't handle right now._

"Santana, this is the test," David said calmly. I couldn't make out Puck's face through the white haze, but I knew he was wearing that guilty hangdog expression he always wore when I lost control.

"Fuck you," I spat. "He promised me he wasn't going to do that anymore! You guys are all fucking liars!"

Everyone knew I had weird traumatic nightmares about what went on in the basement. I nearly had a mental breakdown when Puck demonstrated the "boom" thing for me, and he promised he wouldn't do it around me again. He didn't want me to be "afraid of him."

_I guess that was all bullshit._

"It was my idea," Ben said. He stood up and stepped closer. "The test isn't over. Calm down or you're going to fail. You want to go to the vigil, right?"

I shut my eyes and willed my body to stop shaking.

"Can we continue the test now?"

I nodded.

"Good. Puck?"

I heard Puck sigh heavily as I tried to steady my mind.

_Control is mental. Picture a volume knob-_

**BOOM.**

I immediately tensed up again.

"Fuck," I hissed, clenching my teeth. "This is so unfair."

_Control is mental. Picture-_

**BOOM.**

"Make him stop," I whined. "Please."

"Concentrate," Ben warned. He was standing right next to me, but he was yelling so that I could hear him over the buzzing in my ears. "I know it's hard, but I'm not going to let you off easy. Remember your mental cues. You can do this."

I took a deep breath and dug my nails into my palms.

_Control is mental. Picture a volume knob in your head-_

**BOOM.**

I made an embarrassing whimpering noise.

Ben sighed. "Come on, Santana. Scale of one to ten. Where are you?"

"Ten," I muttered. "Fucking ten."

"So you know what you need to do then."

I nodded. In my head, I did what we'd been practicing for hours and hours every day.

_Control is mental. Picture a volume knob in your head. It's set to ten. Now slowly turn it down to zero._

I pictured the volume knob from the radio in my crappy car back home, cranked all the way up to ten. Then I pictured my hand slowly turning it down.

_10… 9… 8… 7…_

"Puck," Ben prompted.

**BOOM.**

My mental volume knob jumped back to 10.

"Damnit!" I gritted my teeth.

_10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5…_

The next boom felt closer.

**BOOM.**

"Goddamnit, Puck!" I yelled, squeezing my eyes shut tighter. "Don't come near me or I swear to God-"

"Puck, do it," Ben said.

**BOOM.**

The ground rattled hard underneath my feet and I stumbled to the side. The pressure behind my eyes was almost painful and I couldn't even hear myself think over the buzzing.

"Don't come closer!" I screamed, covering my eyes with my hands. "Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!"

I could sense Puck standing in front of me now. I felt the wind rush behind his fist as he slammed it into the ground next to me.

**BOOM.**

_Eleven._

I screamed and dropped my hands as my eyes flew open. As I fell to my knees, I braced myself, waiting for twin beams of energy to shoot out from my eyes.

But as soon as my hands hit the ground in front of me, my vision cleared. The puffy white clouds above us darkened for the briefest of moments. Out of nowhere, the largest, brightest bolt of lightning I've ever seen shot down from the sky. There was a loud crack and giant flash of light as it struck the large oak tree that I was facing, splitting it right down the center, all the way to the ground. The surrounding trees immediately burst into flames.

The buzzing in my head rapidly dropped to a quiet hum.

"Holy fuck," Puck whispered.

In my peripheral vision, I could see Ben standing off to the side with his arm wrapped around Puck's neck. I guess he'd pulled him out of the way at the last second, thinking I would have zapped him with my eyes or hands. David was sitting next to them, staring at the burning trees with a horrified look on his face.

"Lightning," he said, looking back at the sky. "Who knew?"

I inhaled deeply through my nose, trying to slow my rapid breathing and heart rate.

_10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 0._

_Picture a light switch in your head. It is in the 'on' position. Switch it into the 'off' position to stop the flow of energy._

I pictured the orange light switch from my childhood bedroom at my abuela's house.

_Off._

The energy coursing through me ceased immediately. Every muscle in my body loosened. I felt like overcooked spaghetti. I sat back on my heels, exhausted and covered in sweat.

I didn't look at any of them. I _couldn't_ look at any of them.

Someone sat down next to me in the grass.

"You know what I'm going say."

"Fuck you, Ben," I growled.

"I can't let you go out like this. It's dangerous," he said, sounding apologetic.

I laughed bitterly. "You could. You just don't want to."

He sighed. "This isn't about you, Santana. It's about the people that could get hurt. You knew Puck was going to be the one to take you to Lima. Kurt might be gone, but his guys are probably all over the place. What if you ran into trouble? Puck would have to handle it and you'd lose your shit. You see those trees over there? What if you did that to one of your friends? Could you really live with yourself if that happened?"

I glared silently at the destroyed oak trees. He stood up and put his hand out to pull me up, but I turned away.

"Leave me alone," I snapped, but it sounded sad and pathetic instead of angry.

"I'll let you cool off." He walked off into the woods.

Puck's sad puppy eyes locked with mine.

I curled my lip in disgust. "You stay the fuck away from me, you liar. God, it's like you try to find new ways to make my life worse every day. Well, nice work. You've really outdone yourself today, Noah."

He scuffed the ground with his shoe and slowly nodded, following Ben into the woods.

David looked at me sadly, giving me his trademark kindergarten teacher smile.

"And I don't want to hear any of your peacekeeper bullshit right now, David. Just please, leave me alone."

He nodded kindly. "I understand. We're here when you need us, Santana."

When I was sure that they weren't coming back, I flopped onto my back and stared at the sun for a long, long time.

* * *

><p>It was late morning when I came back inside. Figgins and Ben were hunched over a laptop. Himanshu's legs stuck out from underneath a robot that looked like Voltron. David was scribbling notes on a large map.<p>

Tina was sitting on Puck's lap in the corner furthest from the door. His face was buried in her neck and she slowly stroked his large, mohawked head.

No one looked up when I entered the room, but I could feel them watching me from the corners of their eyes. I quickly crossed the floor and went to my own room, resisting the urge to slam the door behind me.

About an hour later, I heard the door open. I couldn't see who it was because I was facing the wall, but it didn't even matter. I didn't want to talk to any of them.

"Go away," I called over my shoulder.

"If I go away, then who's gonna take you to Lima?" Puck asked.

I rolled over to face him. "Nobody's taking me to Lima, remember? King Benjamin hath proclaimed it and so it shall be."

Puck smirked. "Well, King Benjamin had to go take care of something for Figgins. So he's gonna be gone for quite some time. Long enough for us to escape."

"And when he comes back, he's gonna come hunt us down." I rolled my eyes. "Then he's gonna drag us both back here."

The door opened wider and another person stepped into the room.

"Maybe, maybe not."

My jaw dropped. Standing in front of me… was me. I couldn't do anything but blink. Puck and "Santana" both laughed at me.

"What. The. Fuck." My eyes trailed up and down the body of my clone. Everything looked exactly like it should for the most part.

_Do my boobs really look that fake?_

"It's me, David!" Other Me said cheerfully. "What do you think?"

I got off the bed and walked slowly around my double. "Out of all the weird things that have happened to me over the last few weeks, this is easily the most disturbing."

"You're probably right." Davetana grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

I frowned at his expression. "Ok, you look like me, but you're too nice to properly pull this off."

"I did a decent impression of Wes and he's no sweetheart," he pointed out. "Besides, you're giving everyone the angry silent treatment right now anyway. If all else fails, I'll just swear in Spanish under my breath and give dirty looks."

"That sounds like something I'd do." I pulled on the collar of the t-shirt he was wearing. "Change into one of the outfits Tina let me borrow. And put on a bra. It's cold out there and I don't want Himanshu ogling my nipples all day."

"Got it."

I reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind Davetana's ear. He winked at me and made a goofy face. I had to laugh.

"This is so fucking weird. I thought Artie said you could only turn into another male."

Davetana chuckled. "What Artie doesn't know could fill a set of encyclopedias. Now you two get going."

"Shit," I hissed, glancing at the clock. "It's already noon. We're never going to make it on time."

Puck jangled a set of keys in front of my face. "Relax, I'm driving. And Puckasaurus is never late."

* * *

><p>"You know, when you use the word 'driving', it usually implies the use of a car or at least something with wheels on the ground."<p>

We were flying high above the Great Lakes in Puck's plane, Number Wah. It was one of those stupid little puddle jumpers that shakes every time a pigeon flies by.

"The plane did have wheels on the ground," Puck smirked. "Then it took off."

I rolled my eyes and slunk down in the co-pilot's seat, glaring at the blue sky around us.

"I didn't take you for the kind to be afraid of flying, Lopez."

"I'm not," I muttered. "If I were afraid of flying, I'd probably make lightning strike the plane or something and we'd crash into Lake Erie."

He was silent for a minute. Then he sighed and scratched his head.

"I'm really sorry about this morning," he said, glancing quickly in my direction. "I'm sorry about everything that's happened to you. I feel terrible."

I turned my glare on him. "What do you want me to say, Puck? Don't expect me to tell you everything's okay because it's not fucking okay. You feel terrible? Great. I feel terrible, too. Nobody seems to care about that."

"We do care. I know it's hard-"

"No. You don't," I snapped. I sat up straight, turning towards him in my seat. "None of you people understand what this is like. This has been a fucking nightmare from the beginning. Now I've got these fucked up nightmares and 'abilities' that could kill or maim someone. And you guys are putting me through the wringer 24/7, constantly pushing me until I get overwhelmed and fuck up. Hard is an understatement."

I rested my head against the cool window glass and closed my eyes. "I just want my old life back."

"Hey," he said, poking me in the arm until I looked at him. "You're gonna get your life back. I'm gonna make sure you do. I promise."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him. "How? I'm never allowed to be angry or sad or scared ever again because I could kill someone I love. I have to be Little Miss Perfect for the rest of my life. It's impossible." I ran my hand along the dashboard, doodling in the dust. "Be glad you never had to deal with this 'Incredible Hulk shit.'"

Puck pushed the plane's yoke slightly to alter our course. "Well my commander always used to lecture us about putting our emotions aside for the mission. Maybe that training would have helped a little, but who knows?"

"Your commander? You're in the army?"

He moved his hand in a sweeping motion around the cockpit. "Air Force."

_Oh right. That makes sense._

"So what are you doing here? Why aren't you out… Air Forcing or whatever?"

He shrugged. "Can't leave McKinley. None of us can."

"Why not?"

"Did anyone tell you anything about McKinley?" he asked.

"Figgins and Tina tried when I woke up." I blushed and looked out the window. "They might be afraid to try to explain anything else to me since I almost put Figgins through a wall."

"Oh yeah," Puck laughed. "Forgot about that."

"Not my finest hour," I muttered, cringing at the memory.

"Well, to make a long story short," Puck said, sitting up straighter in his seat, "the military found out about the Goo. They bought the lab where Figgins and Tina worked so they could own all of the research. Then they rounded up the best and brightest disabled vets so they could see if the stuff really worked. They gave us the Goo, one by one, hoping to create some kind of elite team of soldiers."

"And the rest is history," I finished for him. "Now you guys are the X-Men and you fly all over the world fighting wars with crazy super powers, right?"

Puck laughed bitterly. "Not really, no. Doesn't work that way. Apparently, SNIX works great on lab mice, but it kills humans."

I blanched. "Kills humans?"

I hadn't been paying much attention at the time, but now I vaguely remembered Tina telling me that I was lucky to be alive.

"Yup, kills 'em dead. Figgins kept reworking the formula after every trial," he continued, "but most of the soldiers didn't make it through the process. The ones that did survive couldn't handle the 'Incredible Hulk shit.' They either accidentally killed themselves with their abilities or… not-so accidentally killed themselves with their firearms. Forty three guys, all dead. Well, except one. He just wishes he were dead."

I refused to believe what he was saying. It didn't make any sense.

"But I'm alive. You and David and Ben are alive," I said incredulously.

"The three of us didn't get SNIX'd. You know those weird metal coffins that Tina keeps in her office?" He waited for me to nod in acknowledgment. "Those are special chambers. Tina invented them because the SNIX process was just slaughtering people. We get in the chambers and Tina gives us some containers full of Goo to hold. Then the chamber does some weird science shit to the Goo and we just kinda absorb what it gives off. We call it 'juicing.' It doesn't hurt. It's just slightly uncomfortable."

I was tempted to ask if those were the same chambers Kurt had been yelling at me about, but then I reminded myself that I didn't care and didn't need to know about any of that drama.

"We do it once a week," he continued. "Juicing is only temporary. The Goo doesn't get absorbed into your body, so the effects don't last. But SNIX is permanent."

"Why would you keep doing that to yourself?" I laughed in disbelief. "Do you really need super powers that badly?"

He shrugged. "I don't care about losing my abilities, but if I stop juicing, the healing effects will wear off, too. And I'm not interested in going back to being paralyzed from the waist down."

My face fell. I almost didn't want to ask. Luckily, he didn't make me.

"I was stationed in Europe back then. We got some time off and took a weekend trip to Amsterdam. Got into a car wreck on the way back to base. My buddies walked away. I didn't."

It was hard to imagine big, strong Puck as a quadriplegic. I turned away to look at the floor of the cockpit. I felt kinda guilty for bitching at him earlier. I wasn't the only one with problems.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," I said sincerely.

"It is what it is." He tried to sound like he didn't care, but the stony expression on his face was too serious. "The Goo made me as good as new. But it's hard not to feel like a drug addict when your life revolves around your next hit."

"And that's why you can't leave McKinley?" I asked, finally connecting the dots.

"And that's why I can't leave McKinley." He nodded solemnly. "Sometimes you don't get your old life back. You just have to make do with the one you've got now."

I rested my head against the window, staring out at the big, fluffy clouds in the sky. The mood was suddenly ten times more depressing that it had been when we'd taken off.

Puck didn't say anything for the rest of the trip.

* * *

><p>We landed the plane at Lima International Airport and took a cab to the Hilton down the street from Ladies Night. I kept my hood up the entire time, not wanting to ruin the whole thing by being spotted. We bypassed the front desk and took an elevator to the top floor.<p>

"Ok," Puck announced, slapping his hands on his thighs. "Himanshu and I did a little research yesterday and we figured out that this rooftop will give us the best view of the parking lot."

"_We_ figured out?" I raised an eyebrow. "Something tells that _you_ didn't do a whole lot of figuring."

He waved his hand dismissively. "This isn't the time to get caught up in the details. We need to get to the roof, but the door up there probably has an alarm on it."

He walked up to one of the rooms and put his ear to the door. After listening for a few seconds, he moved to the next door and listened again.

"Empty!" he whispered. "Jackpot!"

He took a step back and then nudged the door with his shoulder. It flew off of its hinges, crashed into the wall behind it, and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"Puck!" I hissed. "What the hell?"

"Whoops!" he whispered, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside the room. He picked the door up and awkwardly shoved it back on its hinges before anyone came out to see what the noise was.

Puck quickly walked over to the window and slid it open. It only went up a few inches. He gripped the bottom of the pane with both hands and slowly pulled it up. The window protested loudly, squeaking as he tried to force it open without smashing it to pieces. Suddenly, the entire pane snapped in half. The whole window, including the frame, ripped out of the wall.

I put my face in my hands and sat down on the foot of the bed. "Oh my god. This person's hotel bill is going to be insane."

"This is why it's important to learn control," he chuckled, shaking the loose glass out of the frame. He propped what was left of the window up against the wall and dusted his hands off on his jeans. "I can break down a brick wall, but I can't crack an egg. Go figure."

_So how does he… nevermind. I don't even want to know. Tina deserves some kind of award._

"What exactly are you accomplishing by charging around the hotel like a coked-up elephant?" I glanced around the room and back at the damaged door, half expecting the cops to burst in at any moment.

"If you wanted stealth, you should've asked David to bring you," Puck said, facing the gaping hole in the wall. He took off his sneakers, tied them together by the laces, and hung them around his neck. He took his aviators off of his head and clipped them onto the neck of his shirt. "Noah Puckerman specializes in results."

He bent over at the waist and patted his back. "Climb on, Lopez. Time's a-wastin'!"

"What the hell are you-"

"Do you want to see this vigil or not?"

I sighed and reluctantly climbed onto Puck's back.

"Hold on tiiiiiight," he sang. Then he turned around, climbed onto the window sill backwards, and dropped out of the window.

I screamed for a good fifteen seconds before I realized we weren't falling. We were clinging to wall under the window. Puck's hands and feet were flat against the building, and my arms were wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Are you crazy?" I screeched, holding on for dear life.

He ignored me and started quickly climbing up the wall. Every movement was accompanied by a disgusting "squish" as Puck's hands and feet left a trail of some weird sticky substance behind us. I grimaced and tried to focus on the other sounds around us, but that just reminded me that we were ridiculously high in the air.

_Why don't simple, easy things happen anymore? I think there's some new cosmic law that says my life isn't allowed to make sense._

When we reached the top of the building, he flung us over the edge and landed on his feet. I immediately slid off his back, happy to have my feet on something solid. Puck wiped his sticky hands off on his jeans.

"Gross," I said, shuddering. "You just beat out Davetana for the Most Disturbing Award, just so you know."

He fist pumped the air. "Awesome! I'm gonna make Figgins put it up on the fridge."

It was nice to see that Puck was out of his bad mood from earlier. He walked toward the north end of the roof and pointed down below. We had a very clear view of Ladies Night. There was only one problem.

I pointed to the Ladies Night parking lot below. "How the hell are we supposed to actually see anything from up here?"

He slipped his aviators out of his shirt pocket, fiddled with them, then handed them to me. "Fear not, Lopez. I brought something for you. Slip these on."

I slid the giant shades onto my face. "Whoa."

They weren't normal sunglasses at all. They were binoculars. I could clearly see everything that was happening down below, even though the sun was already setting. Down in the Ladies Night parking lot, Sam and Matt were carrying various pieces of the small PA system we used for outdoor events. Sugar was directing the arriving guests while April seemed to be giving directions to other employees. Mercedes was setting up a microphone stand, a serious expression etched into her features. I felt a pang of sadness in my chest for my best friend. Ever since Himanshu had shown me the Facebook event, I'd been wondering how Mercedes was doing. I didn't want her to worry about me, even though she always did anyway. I just wanted to hug her and tell her I was okay, but I couldn't.

Puck reached over and tapped the top of the lenses. Sounds from the parking lot poured out of a tiny hidden side speaker and into the night air.

"These glasses are amazing," I whispered, picking familiar faces out of crowd.

"They're called Surveillenses," he said. "Baby Figgins is a regular Einstein."

I offered him the glasses, but he pushed them back toward me and tapped his eyelid.

"Super sight. I'd teach you how to use it, but you've got weird laser eyes and I don't want you to snipe someone down there." He checked his watch. "We've got about 45 minutes left."

I groaned loudly. "What are we gonna do for 45 minutes?"

"Only the most entertaining thing in the world." Puck grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"What's that?" I asked warily, stepping away from him.

"Tell embarrassing Baby Figgins stories."

* * *

><p>If you ever get the chance to secretly attend a candlelight vigil held in your honor, I highly recommend it. It's a great activity for both your inner sadist <em>and<em> your inner masochist.

The fact that my vigil was taking place in a nightclub parking lot was a clear indication that Mercedes was running the show. She knew me better than anyone. She knew that, despite my incessant bitching and moaning, Ladies Night was my favorite place in the world.

The crowd formed a thick circle around the PA system, so I could only see the people who were facing the Hilton. There were a lot people there, way more than I ever would have imagined. Some of them were Ladies Night regulars who liked me. Most of my neighbors from Lima Heights were there, including the nice elderly couple from across the hall. There were familiar faces from high school and college, some of which were local and some who had to have come from out of state. Even Lauren Zizes was there, somehow managing to look both appropriately sad and mildly bored.

"A lot of people miss you," Puck remarked, watching the large ring of people.

I nodded, not quite believing it myself. "Yeah, who knew?"

In the center of the circle, resting on an easel, was a large framed picture of me that I'd never seen before. I was sitting cross-legged on top of the bar at Ladies Night, grinning at something happening off to the side. I could tell that it was taken during my first year at the bar because my hair was shorter and I had my rainbow sweatband on my left wrist. Out-and-Proud Santana had returned to Lima with a year of college under her belt and a lot of silly ideas about the future in her head.

_Well, that didn't turn out the way I'd planned._

I pointed to the crowd. "You see the people facing us? Those are my friends."

The Ladies Night crew huddled together near the PA. Matt slung his arms around Aphasia and Sunshine's shoulders, while Mike just tilted his face toward the sky, eyes closed. Sugar and April held onto each other tightly. Sam, who had apparently dyed his hair black sometime in the past few weeks, had his guitar slung over his shoulder. He ran his hands up and down Mercedes arms as he whispered something into her ear. With the high-powered Surveillenses, I could see her blink away her tears and give him a small smile. She took a deep breath and walked toward the microphone stand in the center of the crowd.

"Hello, everyone," she said nervously.

Feedback squealed through the speakers and everyone jumped. Mercedes took a step away from the PA as Sam rushed over and adjusted the volume. She mouthed a 'thank you' to him and cleared her throat.

"Hello, everyone," she repeated, clearing her throat. She looked around the circle to address the entire crowd as she spoke. "I wanna start off by thanking everyone for coming out tonight and showing your support. We're all here tonight because we're praying for the safe return of our friend, Santana Lopez."

She paused to breathe and gave another small, forced smile. My stomach turned. It was hard to sit by and watch Mercedes struggle through this. I just wanted to pop up behind her and scream "I'm fine!" But I knew that couldn't happen. I needed to figure out my powers before I could see her again.

"It's been two and a half weeks since Santana went missing. Even though we haven't gotten any new information from the police, we all need to stay strong and not lose hope." There was an odd, hollow quality to her voice. It sounded like she was reciting the line from memory. I wasn't entirely convinced that she believed what she was saying.

"Now, I know each of us have fond memories of Santana and there are a few people in the audience that would like to share those memories tonight."

She turned to the part of the crowd that was facing away from the Hilton and gestured to someone in the front of the crowd.

"Mrs. Ramirez, would you like to go first?"

_Oh dear God, why?_

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I muttered, slapping my hand to my face.

"Mrs. Ramirez" stepped forward from the crowd and approached the center of the circle. She looked almost exactly the same as she had the last time I'd seen her. Dark, tailored designer suit. Dangerously high heels. Meticulously styled hair pulled into a tight, perfectly centered bun at the back of her head.

But when she turned toward the microphone, she looked so much older. Her expensive makeup covered most signs of aging, but I could still see the laugh lines, the crow's feet, the wrinkles. If her hair wasn't freshly dyed, I probably would've seen streaks of gray, too. She just looked… worn.

"What's wrong?" Puck asked. He tapped the frame of the Surveillenses to turn up the volume. "Who's Mrs. Ramirez?"

I sighed and shook my head. "My mother."

Puck's face scrunched up in confusion. "And that's bad because…"

"That's bad because Nina Ramirez is the hottest mess in the state of Ohio and possibly the entire universe."

She took the microphone from Mercedes. "Thank you, Miranda."

People in the crowd looked at Mercedes, who had the decency not to react. My mother cleared her throat dramatically before dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

"My dearest Santana," she began, looking off into the distance. "Sweet, beautiful Santana!"

Each word was louder than the last one and her stupid fake accent became more and more apparent as she spoke.

"Oh god," I groaned, putting my face in my hands.

"Your mom's British?" Puck asked, looking confused.

"No," I sighed, "she used to be an actress. Now she just talks like that when she wants to sound sophisticated."

My mother, the loudest and most dramatic person I've ever met, put her hand over her heart and closed her eyes. "My loving, graceful daughter! How I long to see your angelic face once again!"

"She hasn't seen my 'angelic face' in two years," I said, turning to Puck. "I'm calling bullshit on this entire speech right now. Watch."

She dabbed at her eye again, even though she wasn't crying. "I have so many wonderful memories of my precious baby girl. Like how she used to run home from school, jump into my arms, and tell me all about her day."

I rolled my eyes. "Bullshit. We haven't lived in the same house since I was six."

"Or how she would always make the game-winning shot for her basketball team." She mimicked shooting a ball into a hoop and I felt incredibly embarrassed for her.

"I played soccer," I stated numbly.

"I'll never forget how proud I was at her high school graduation ceremony."

"She was on a Caribbean cruise that week and she didn't even buy me a fucking card."

"And she was quite the beauty in her quinceañera dress!" she said, flashing her Colgate smile.

"My abuela took me and Mercedes to Red Lobster for my birthday," I muttered. "I wouldn't really call that a quinceañera."

She paused dramatically. "But my favorite memory of all is how she would give me a kiss goodnight and tell me 'Mama, when I grow up, I want to be just like you!'"

I burst out laughing. Puck grabbed my collar to keep me from falling over the edge of the building. Mercedes's expression fell somewhere between incredibly pissed off and slightly horrified. I'm not sure what she expected when she decided to let my attention whore mother speak. I guess she thought that a serious occasion like this would somehow turn my mother into a normal human being.

I straightened up and wiped my eyes under the shades. "Good grief, that woman is delusional!"

"Sounds like it," Puck agreed. "Seems like she doesn't know the first thing about you."

"Yeah, well, she wasn't there so how could she know? At least she didn't bring my stepdad with her."

I got the last of my giggles out and tried to focus on what that crazy woman was talking about now. I'd missed a chunk of her bullshit speech during my laughing fit.

"There's no doubt in my mind that Santana will return to us safe and sound, but for now, we must not give up hope! Thank you all for your continued support and God bless!"

She handed the microphone back to Mercedes, but not without saying "here you go, Melinda" loud enough for everyone to hear. Mercedes, who had acquired the patience of a saint since I went missing, simply gave her that same, tight-lipped sad smile and turned back to the crowd. As my mother walked away, she lifted her arms to inappropriately wave to everyone like she was at a fucking parade instead of a vigil.

Her sleeve slipped up a few inches. Wrapped around her left wrist was my rainbow sweatband. The same one she ripped off my wrist years ago. Right before she called me a disgrace and a loser and slammed the door in my face. I barked out a laugh. Puck raised his eyebrows, but I just shook my head.

I don't think I've ever hated her more than I did in that moment.

After my train wreck of a mother returned to her place in the crowd, April Rhodes spoke. Even though I thought the woman was nuts, I loved her to death. She'd given me a bartending job even though I was underage. She'd taken care of me after my abuela passed away, when she probably should've fired me for being an emotional wreck. She was the only real mother figure I had left.

And she was super drunk.

Her speech had started off okay, with nice little anecdotes about me and how I was like the daughter she never had. But then it suddenly turned into a drunken, profanity filled rant.

"Fuck the police," she slurred into the microphone, pointing to some random person in the crowd. "That's right, I said it. Fuck those pigs down at the Lima PD! Ken Tanaka and his cronies are standing around with their cocks in their hands, too busy playing with their new robot to get us some real information, so I say, fuck 'em! Fuck 'em with a thirty foot-"

"Thank you, April!" Mercedes grabbed the microphone from her and steered her back into Sugar's waiting arms. Two minutes later, she was still ranting into Sugar's shoulder, waving her fist in the air.

A few more people said their piece. Aphasia and Sunshine read a poem together. Mike told a pretty funny story about the day he met me and somehow managed to make it family friendly. Mercedes passed the mic to Sugar, who sniffled and pushed it away towards-

Brittany.

I hadn't noticed her before because she'd been standing behind Matt and Mike, but at some point she and her roommates must have shuffled to the front of the crowd. When she stepped into the center of the circle, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Even from miles away in the darkness, she looked absolutely breathtaking. Her blue sweater matched the color of her eyes and her hair fell in soft delicate curls around her shoulders. Her expression was heartbreaking. I hadn't seen her look that sad since the day we met.

"Catching flies, Lopez?" Puck laughed.

I snapped my mouth shut and glared at him. He grinned.

"That blonde," he said, pointing to Brittany. "Is she your lady friend?"

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't really come out to the McKinley Team. That old panicky feeling flared up in the pit of my stomach.

_Please don't turn out to be a homophobic douchebag._

"What do you mean by 'lady friend'?" I asked suspiciously.

"You know." He waved his hand around. "Girlfriend. Life partner. Scissor sister. Lady friend."

"No, she's not my 'lady friend.' She's my friend, I guess. I mean, she's friendly. We're friendly. And she's a lady. But she's not my 'lady friend.' I would like that, but she's not." I was blushing like crazy, but I couldn't get my mouth to stop saying words. "I mean, I don't know if _she_ would want to be _my_ 'lady friend'. She asked me out to lunch, so maybe she does. Want that, I mean. Maybe she's interested. In being my 'lady friend'. Maybe. It's just lunch though. She colored on my stomach."

_Word vomit! Make it stop!_

Puck just stared at me for a second before he burst out laughing.

"Oh wow," he snorted. "You've got it bad."

"Shut it, Puckerman." I scowled at him and looked away. "Why did you even think that I would have a lady friend anyway?"

"Well, you're wearing a rainbow armband in that picture," he explained. "Also, you haven't hit on me yet, so you must be a lesbian. Don't worry though, I'm an awesome lesbro. I have references."

I shushed him as Brittany began to speak.

"I haven't known Santana as long as most of you have," she said softly, looking in the general direction of the Ladies Night staff. "But I do know that Santana was- Santana _is_ an amazing person. Whenever I had a problem or I just wanted to get something off my chest, Santana would be behind the bar with a kind word and a smile on her face. She always knew just what to say to brighten up my day."

She closed her eyes briefly and when she reopened them, they were shining with unshed tears. She turned slightly to the side and I could see that she was looking directly at her mean, blond roommate, Quinn.

"I've had a rough year."

Her eyes widened slightly as if she hadn't meant to say it out loud, let alone in front of a crowd of perfect strangers. Quinn's expression hardened and suddenly it felt like I was intruding on a private conversation between them.

"But talking to Santana made it easier to get through the weeks and months. For that I can't thank her enough. Her kind words and encouragement really helped, more than she knows. She's such a special person. I wish that you could see that."

Quinn narrowed her eyes and looked around as if to remind Brittany that they _weren't_ having a private conversation.

"I mean, of course you all see that," she said, correcting herself and blushing. "That's why you're here. Because Santana was special to you as well."

Brittany turned away from Quinn and looked up into the sky. "Santana, wherever you are, please know that we miss you and we're patiently waiting for you to come home."

She nodded toward Mercedes and handed her back the microphone, but instead of returning to her spot, she stayed in the middle of the circle.

"Some of our friends have a song that they wanted to sing tonight," Mercedes said. "During the song, we'll be lighting the candles. Afterwards, we'll have a moment of silence to conclude the vigil."

Sam arranged three stools next to the large picture of me and brought out two extra microphone stands. While he set everything up, the Ladies Night staff walked around with bags of candles, handing them out to people in the crowd. Sugar approached Brittany, looking incredibly nervous. Standing up in front of screaming crowds every night and introducing strippers didn't bother her, but she was always self-conscious when it came to singing. Brittany patted her gently on the shoulder and gave her a small, but reassuring smile. Sam swung his guitar around, quickly played a few chords to check the tuning, then began to play.

Mercedes lit the candles of the Ladies Night staff as Sugar began to sing.

_And if I said I really knew you well,  
>What would your answer be?<em>

The Ladies Night staff began to hold out their candles to their neighbors, passing the flame around the circle.

_If you were here today,  
>Oooooo, here today<em>

Sugar's face broke into a watery grin as she sang softly to my picture.

_Well, knowing you, you'd probably laugh  
>And say that we were worlds apart<em>

Brittany and Sam joined in on the harmony, their voices blending with Sugar's as the candlelight made its way through the crowd.

_If you were here today,  
>Oooooo, here today<em>

Sam leaned forward to his microphone, causing his jet black Beiber bangs to fall into his eyes.

_But as for me, I still remember how it was before,  
>And I am holding back the tears no more.<br>Oooooo, I love you, oooooo_

_What about the time we met?  
>Well, I suppose that you could say<br>That we were playing hard to get.  
>Didn't understand a thing,<br>But we could always sing._

To my surprise, Brittany took over the next verse. Her voice rang out loud and clear through the speakers of the Surveillenses. She looked off into the distance and even though I knew she couldn't see me, it felt like she was singing right to me.

_What about the night we cried?  
>Because there wasn't any reason<br>Left to keep it all inside.  
>Never understood a word,<br>But you were always there with a smile._

On the last line, she opened her eyes and smiled broadly at my picture. That's what I had always done for her. I was always there with a joke or smile so she'd forget about whatever was making her sad.

_And if I say I really loved you  
>And was glad you came along.<br>Then you were here today,_

The three of them finished the song together. The candles were all lit and the crowd stood in silence, giving Sam, Sugar, and Brittany their full attention.

_Oooooooo, for you were in my song.  
>Oooooooo, here today.<em>

The last notes from Sam's guitar faded away and the audience remained silent.

"Sir Paul," Puck observed. "I approve."

I was too busy watching the people below to listen. Sugar and Brittany were wiping their eyes, while Sam just stared quietly at Mercedes's lit candle. And Mercedes just stood there with her eyes closed and her lips pressed together tightly, hanging onto that smile for dear life.

After a few minutes of silence, Mercedes thanked the audience for coming and the crowd began to disperse. The Ladies Night crew started packing up the PA system. The Rosenbaums from the apartment across the hall shuffled over to one of those giant Cadillacs that old people always drive. Lauren Zizes hopped into a delivery truck with her face on the side of it.

My mother was the first one out of the parking lot.

Brittany hadn't moved since the song ended. Mercedes came over and patted her arm. Silently, they packed up my picture and the easel, taking them both over to Mercedes's car.

Only two people stood motionless in the crowd. I turned the Surveillenses on them and immediately recognized Brittany's two obnoxious roommates. Rachel was playing with her still-burning candle and Quinn was glaring daggers at Brittany's back.

"Brittany's been spending quite a lot of time with Mercedes lately," Rachel said, flicking wax off of her fingers. "I didn't realize they were so close."

"They aren't," Quinn muttered, watching as Brittany and Mercedes returned to collect discarded candles in garbage bags. "Or at least they _weren't_. Not until that bartender decided to fall off the face of the earth."

"Quinn!" Rachel hissed, looking around to see if anyone heard her rude friend. "That's extremely inappropriate, not to mention uncalled for!"

"I don't even understand what we're doing here," she continued. "We don't even _know_ this person, and Brittany doesn't really know her either. I mean, I understand that she's upset, but this is a little much."

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "You know exactly why we're here, Quinn. Just because you don't want to accept that your best friend might be-"

"Don't." Quinn whirled on Rachel and stuck her finger in her face. Rachel's eyes widened and she took a step back. "Don't even finish that sentence."

They stood like that for a moment before Quinn finally lowered her finger and turned her eyes back to Brittany and Mercedes, who were handing off the bags of candles to Matt and Mike.

"Brittany's just… confused," Quinn said, not looking at Rachel. "And it's not her fault. Tommy was a shitty boyfriend and the bartender… she was nice and she was there. Of course, Brittany would get attached."

"She's not a puppy, Quinn," Rachel said under her breath.

Quinn ignored her. She waved her hand around, gesturing to the parking lot. "But this is good. Now she can have some closure and things can go back to the way they were. We can put all of this behind us."

_Closure? I'm missing, not dead._

"I'm going to pretend that you didn't just imply that someone going missing is a good thing just because you're in denial," Rachel said, pulling her keys out of her purse. Quinn snatched the keys from her hand and walked off.

"Just go get Brittany," she snapped. "I'm so over this shit."

* * *

><p>Puck wiped off the dirty ledge of the old brick building before plopping down on it.<p>

"Can you see everything you want to see from here?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's perfect," I said, zooming in and out with the Surveillenses. "I just want to make sure Mercedes is okay. Then we can go home."

We were sitting on top of a condemned building in Lima Heights, looking into the darkened windows of my apartment. The door opened and light filled the living room. Sam walked in and propped his guitar case against the wall.

_After years of me tripping over it and screaming at him in Spanish, he finally remembers not to leave it in front of the door._

"It was a lovely vigil, dear." Mrs. Rosenbaum was standing in her doorway across the hall. "Santana would have loved it."

Mercedes nodded and smiled. "Thank you. And thank you both for coming. Goodnight."

She stepped into the apartment, closed the door, and leaned back against it. The weird smile she'd been wearing all night disappeared as if she'd pulled off a mask. She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

Sam walked over and wrapped his arms around her. "You okay, baby?"

"Yes," she whispered unconvincingly. "I just need to lay down."

He nodded. "Ok. You go ahead I'll be right there."

Mercedes gave him a quick squeeze. She walked away, but instead of turning toward her own bedroom, she turned toward mine. She kicked off her shoes, walked over to my bedside table, and began to mess with my iPod dock. As soft music began to play, she grabbed my favorite blanket off of a chair in the corner, wrapped it around herself, and laid down in my bed.

_Smile though your heart is aching,  
>Smile even though it's breaking<br>When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by_

I looked quickly into Mercedes's bedroom window and even though the lights were off, I could see that her bed was neatly made. The last day that she'd crossed off on her desk calendar was the day I went missing.

She hadn't been in her room since I left.

_If you smile with your fear and sorrow  
>Smile and maybe tomorrow<em>

Sam walked in with two glasses of ice water, kicked off his shoes, and placed the glasses on the nightstand. He slid into my bed behind Mercedes and wrapped his arms around her. She immediately burst into tears.

_You'll find that life is still worthwhile  
>If you just smile<em>

"She told me not to cry if she ever…" she gasped between sobs, trying to breathe and get herself under control.

Sam shushed her and pulled her into his chest. "It's okay, you're okay."

_Light up your face with gladness  
>Hide every trace of sadness<br>Although a tear may be ever so near_

"I wanted to talk about her," she sobbed into his shirt. "Instead of letting her awful mom get up there and say all that stuff that wasn't even _true_."

_That's the time you must keep on trying  
>Smile, what's the use of crying?<em>

"I wanted to sing for her," she whispered. I could barely make it out over the music. "But I knew I would have cried. And she wouldn't want that."

_You'll find that life is still worthwhile  
>If you just smile<em>

Sam pulled my blanket over both of them and let Mercedes cry.

A tissue appeared in front of my face. I looked over at Puck, who was staring straight ahead, holding it out for me. I hadn't even realized I was crying.

"I told her I didn't want her to cry when I died," I said, quietly wiping my face.

I remembered turning to her as we walked out of the cemetery after my abuela's funeral. We were probably the only ones who had shed a tear that day. The faces of her family and friends remained dry and stony.

"I told her that when I died, I wanted her to remember me and smile."

Puck blindly handed me another tissue. "So, she thinks you're dead?"

_Closure._

"They _all_ think I'm dead," I whispered.

As badly as I'd wanted to see my friends, I never imagined how it would actually feel. My stomach turned as I watched Sam gently rock Mercedes as she continued to cry. Mourn. Grieve.

I felt sick.

"Let's go," I said to Puck, stuffing the wet tissues into my pockets. "I don't wanna be here anymore."

* * *

><p>We didn't speak during the ride to the airport or even after we boarded Number Wah. Puck placed a travel pack of tissues and a bottle of water on my lap before we took off and was kind enough not to draw attention to the fact that I sobbed like a baby for four hours straight. He didn't even tell me to calm down when bright flashes of lightning started streaking across the sky.<p>

Unfortunately, I'd completely forgotten that I wasn't even supposed to be outside in the first place.

As soon as we stepped in the door, Ben was on his feet.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he demanded.

Dave was sitting in a chair by the computers, still wearing a pair of Tina's pajamas. He mouthed the word 'sorry' and shrugged his shoulders. If I hadn't felt like shit, I would've laughed at how ridiculous he looked.

_I guess Operation Davetana wasn't a success after all._

"I can't believe you two! Do you know what could've happened if-" Ben stopped when he saw my bloodshot eyes and tear streaked face. "Whoa, what… what's going on?"

I looked away from him. I didn't want to talk about it.

Puck put his hand up. "Not now, okay. It's been a rough night."

Ben looked back and forth between us for a second.

"Please," Puck said. "Just cut us some slack right now."

Ben nodded reluctantly and stepped out of the way. "Fine. We'll talk in the morning."

I walked past him without meeting his eyes. As soon as I got to my room, I flopped down on my bed face first and waited for sleep that probably wouldn't come.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: This chapter… why so serious? I don't even know why that happened lol. Everyone is just upset right now! This story, much like Glee, might have some tonal problems since some of the future chapters are (for lack of better word) "cracky." But if you're ever reading something and you're like "WTF Tibbs, why is this happening", feel free to write that in a review. I really do read them.

On a related note, I don't know proper FF Net etiquette, so I'm never sure if I'm supposed to reply to reviews or not. Sometimes, people put a question in their review and I don't know if they actually want me to answer or if they're just speculating for fun. So if you're confused about something or you want a question answered, put "Please reply" in your review or something. I know the McKinley stuff can get complicated and the timeline might be confusing.

Random notes about the development of Fucking Super:

-The Finntastic plotline has begun! I'm kinda excited about it since it's the plotline that birthed this entire story. Hopefully, you find it as interesting as I do, even though it won't really kick off immediately. But the seeds have been planted!

-Originally, Santana was supposed to attend her own funeral, but this is pretty much the same thing without the limitations of "killing" Santana.

-This was a long chapter with a lot of little things in it that you may have forgotten about (Jacob, Himanshu's comment, the bank robbery, Amsterdam, Quinn, etc). But don't fret. Anything that is truly important will come up again and be fully explained.

Long, boring author's note is long and boring.

Thanks for reading!  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	6. Vigilante

**A/N: Have I told you lately that I love you?** We broke 100 reviews on that last chapter! I'm hugging my laptop, can you feel it? Shout out to you guys for humoring me as I write this random AU wank that slithered out of the depths of my brain. You're beautiful! Don't ever change!

As I mentioned in my last A/N, Chapter 5 was split up into two chapters, which was personally upsetting for me because I thought "Vigil(ante)" was a cool chapter name and now I can't use it. #ficauthorproblems

Okay, so I'm going to update this:  
><strong>Rating: M for language, excessive violence, sexual content, minor character death<strong>

**Excessive Violence:** I probably won't remember to put the violence warning on every chapter, so just assume that any chapter from now on could contain violent content. This is a superhero story so there's violence (and not always the cartoony kind). I'm new to writing so I don't know what people think is "excessive" or "graphic."

**Minor character death:** if you're incredibly concerned about this, don't be. My goal here is to tell an entertaining story, not to shock or upset you by slaughtering everyone. It's not like that at all, trust me.

Sometimes, David speaks Spanish out of the blue, so translations are at the end.

Why are these chapters so long?

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Fox/RIB does.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: Vigilante<strong>

Sleeping for only a few hours a day is kind of a mindfuck.

Well, not always.

For almost two years, I would get up at 7AM on weekdays, haul crap around town for Lauren Zizes until 6PM, run back to the Heights and shower, drive downtown to Ladies Night to work the 7 PM Happy Hour, bartend until 2AM, clean up, get home, shower, and fall into bed at 3AM. On the weekends, I'd sleep all day and bartend all night.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

It didn't really bother me at the time. I was pretty hung up on the whole dead abuela thing for a while and work was a great distraction. By the time I finally returned to the land of the living, I was used to my routine. On top of that, I was beyond broke. I didn't have two nickels to rub together, so I needed to work whenever I could. I literally couldn't afford to sleep in. That was my life until I quit the bar.

There's a distinct difference between living like _that_ and living like _this_.

Living like _that_ was a conscious decision to keep me from being crazy and broke.

Living like _this_ involved me staring at the ceiling for hours on end because I already reached my sleep quota and my body just wouldn't power down again.

_No wonder Edward Cullen is such a moody bitch. He's not a lonely, tortured soul. He just wants to take a fucking _nap.

Apparently, three hours of tossing and turning were supposed to be enough for the day. Physically, I didn't need any more than that, but mentally and emotionally, I really just wanted to embrace the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.

_1 bottle of beer on the wall, 1 bottle of beer. You take one down, pass it around, no more bottles of beer on the wall._

I paused for a few minutes, silently hoping that this was the last time I'd have to sing that godforsaken song.

_Maybe I'm approaching this the wrong way..._

_99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer. You pass one around, wash an Ambien down, 98 bottles of beer on the wall._

_98 bottles-_

My door swung open abruptly and I jumped.

"We need to talk," Ben said, striding quickly into the room.

"Why is it that you guys probably know thirty different ways to kill a man with your bare hands, but you can't remember to knock before you enter a room?" I rolled away to face the wall. "One of these days, someone's going to barge in here and I'm going to be naked. But then again, maybe that's what you're counting on."

He leaned over and knocked three times on the wall. "There. Happy?"

"Who is it?" I called over my shoulder.

He stared at my back for minute and when he realized I wasn't going to acknowledge him, he sighed.

"It's Ben."

"Oh! Benjamin! Please do come in!" I rolled over and smiled. "Good morning, Ben! What can I do for you today?"

"We need to talk," he said, walking over to the foot of the bed.

"We need to talk or you need to yell at me?"

"Last night I needed to yell at you," he replied. "Today, we need to talk."

"Hold up, what time is it?" I sat up, stretching my neck and arms. "I feel like I've been laying here for years."

He looked at his watch. "It's 7:30."

"No more bottles of beer on the wall, then," I muttered to myself.

"What?"

"Nothing," I said, stretching my arms and neck. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Your training." He walked around to the small desk in the corner and sat down on top of it. "I think we've been going about this the wrong way."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly passing with flying colors," I said.

"I think that's my fault," he said. I appreciated the fact that he wasn't blaming everything on me. "I've been teaching you how to shut down and not use your powers, but it might be better for your control if I taught you how to actually do something useful. It's like I'm teaching you how to drive by throwing you behind the wheel of a car that's already moving. You need to learn to turn the car on and press the gas before you can handle the brake."

"It's kind of hard to really learn anything," I said. "I'm already too amped up by the time we start the test and then everything just goes to hell."

He nodded in agreement. "Ok then. We'll start the new method after breakfast. You can feel what it's like to charge up by yourself without some event triggering it. I think it will help you gauge your levels better, too."

"That actually sounds like a really good idea. I… I hate feeling so out of control," I admitted quietly.

"This should help," he assured me, smiling. "I have some exercises that I used to do when I was learning to control fire beams. It doesn't work so well for ice, but it should work for energy. I really think you're gonna like this."

* * *

><p><em>I hate this. I've never hated anything more than this. I'll never hate anything this much again.<em>

For the 150th time, I repeated the process, step by mind-numbing step.

_Control is mental._

_Picture a volume knob in your head. It's set to zero. Now slowly turn it up to three._

_0… 1… 2… 3._

When I hit 1, a low hum began in my head, growing to a buzz as I charged up. As soon as I hit 3, my vision began to fog up.

_Windshield wipers._

I blinked rapidly a few times, clearing the fuzzy light from my sight. My eyes were still glowing and I still looked like a creepy Jack-O-Lantern to anyone who could see them, but now I could actually see _out_ and that was more important.

_Earmuffs._

I gave my head a single hard shake and the buzzing stopped, returning to a quiet hum that was more heard than felt.

I held my left hand up in front of my face.

_Feel the energy flow through your body. Direct it to the desired area._

My index finger twitched slightly as I focused on it and flexed the muscles there. Energy surged up my arm, through my hand, and into my finger tip. I made a gun shape with my hand and pointed at the large oak tree six feet in front of me.

_Ready. Aim. Fire._

I lowered my thumb, pretending to fire my hand gun.

_Pow!_

A thin, bright beam of white light shot out from my finger tip and burned into the bark of the tree. I slowly moved my finger, drawing a small horizontal line.

_Stop the flow of energy._

I clicked my thumb again and shut off the beam. The whole "hand gun" thing was pretty unnecessary. I could pretend it was Harry Potter's magic wand if I wanted to. It was just a mental aid to help me develop a routine. According to Ben, "routines help with control." His routine was to snap his fingers before he made a fire ball and make a fist before he made an ice ball.

Routines allow you to focus.

Focus prevents injuries.

_Whatever._

I repeated the routine, shooting with each of my fingers, burning each side of a small box into the bark. When the box was finished, I used my thumb to burn an 'S' in the middle of the box.

_S for Snore. This is awful. I'm going to fall asleep standing up._

"Whatcha doin'?"

Puck and David walked across the clearing, carrying bottles of water. Puck handed me a bottle and took a sip from his own, peering over my shoulder at the tree I was mutilating.

"That's, um… pretty." He scratched the side of his head and plastered a smile on his face, like he was afraid of insulting the kindergarten quality artwork that I'd burned into the tree.

"Ben's making me do this," I grumbled. "This is his idea of 'proactive training.' I have to draw 300 squares using all of my fingers and draw a letter in the middle with my thumb. Oh, and the sides of the boxes can't be more than three inches long. And the boxes have to be no more than an inch apart. And I hate my life. And I hate Ben, too."

"Eso parece divertido," David chuckled. "Makes me wish I had laser beams, too."

"Yes, please come join me in Ben Reed's School for the Terminally Bored." I glared at the misshapen boxes I'd drawn. "I still have 150 more to go! I feel like Bart Simpson in detention."

"Epic suckage," Puck agreed. "Why don't you take a break?"

"Because I can't move on to harder things until I've 'mastered this basic task.' Maybe if I'm finished by the time the warden gets back, he'll let me stop for the day."

They both gave me a pitying look, which I didn't really appreciate.

"Come on, take a water break for a few minutes," David said. "I'm sure Ben won't mind."

I took a seat on the ground, leaning against the base of the tree. Even though I wasn't really moving much, I was sweating profusely. I chugged the water in a few gulps and crushed the plastic bottle into a ball.

"Ben mentioned a new training plan," David said. "I just didn't know it was going to be so…"

"Boring?" Puck laughed. "Ben's such a wet blanket about everything. I'm surprised he's not making you use your beams to make paint dry."

I snorted. "I'm probably going to learn how to control my eye beams by watching grass grow."

"He's the definition of uptight. I know what his problem is. Dude totally needs to get laid. Pronto, ASAP, ahora por favor." Puck did a pelvic thrust in the air, a gesture which was equal parts unnecessary and inappropriate.

"Too bad I'm not straight and Tina's stuck on you for some reason. I'd scale that chocolate mountain if it meant that I wouldn't have to carve up this majestic oak all day. But seeing as I'm a devout vagetarian, I'm just going to have to deal with this crap until Ben thinks I'm ready to rejoin civilization."

David covered his mouth, trying not to laugh. "Don't be so hard on Ben. He wants to help, but he also doesn't want any more lightning to come down on us from above." As an afterthought, he added. "But yeah, I'd definitely hit that."

He winked at my surprised expression and Puck patted me on the back, laughing.

_Mr. Martinez is strictly dickly? You really do learn something new every day._

"If I were training you," Puck said, "we would have kick ass lessons with prizes for excellence and candy. You know, cool stuff." He chucked his water bottle toward the woods.

I knocked the bottle out of the air before it reached the tree line. "Don't litter, you ass. It makes Mother Nature weep tears of acid rain or something."

He narrowed his eyes at me, but his expression quickly brightened. "Hey! Idea!" He took a few steps past the tree line and picked up a rock the size of a cantaloupe. "I bet you fifty bucks you can't shoot this rock out of the sky."

I jumped to my feet. "You're on, Puckerman."

_Finally, some action!_

Even though shooting a rock sounded like something a group of bored 5th grade boys would do, I really couldn't take another second of Advanced Box Drawing. Puck pulled his arm back, preparing to throw.

"Hold on! Wait!" I called. "Let me get ready."

_Control is mental._

I charged up my index finger and made my hand gun. I grabbed my wrist with my other hand to keep it steady and aimed for the sky above the clearing. "Alright. Now I'm ready."

Puck launched the rock into the sky. Ben's words from earlier echoed in my brain.

_Make sure everything lines up. Always make sure your target is centered with your finger, palm, eye, whatever you're shooting with._

_Ready. Aim. Fire._

_Pow!_

I clipped the edge of the rock, breaking off a few small chunks as it hurtled through the air.

_Stop the flow of energy._

"Damnit!" I muttered, lowering my arm.

"Oh come on, Lopez!" Puck shouted, jogging off to retrieve the rock. "I know you can do better than that! I'm gonna give you another chance."

I lifted my arms up again.

"Try to shoot where the rock is going to be instead of where it is," David suggested. "And hold your gun a little higher. Look down the barrel- or your finger, whatever. You can aim better that way."

_See? This is what _real_ training looks like. Not pretty pictures on a freaking tree._

3… 4… 5…

_How much would it take to blow that rock up?_

…_6 …7?_

_That's good enough, right?_

My finger shook slightly as I charged it up. I had never purposely charged up this much before.

"Alright! Here it goes!" Puck launched the rock up, higher this time. I followed it closely with my eyes, watching its trajectory.

_Ready. Aim. Fire._

_Pow!_

A much larger beam shot out of my finger tip. My whole arm jerked up and back from the force of it, causing me to shoot the beam straight above my head.

"Shit!" I yanked my arm down toward my body.

Have you ever had that moment where you _know_, you freaking _know_ that you're doing exactly the wrong thing, but you can't stop yourself because your body's already reacting?

I closed my fucking fist.

Searing pain tore through my hand and for a good two seconds, I was too shocked to react. Somewhere deep inside my brain, I was screaming.

_STOP THE FUCKING FLOW OF ENERGY._

The beam shut off abruptly.

Slowly, I pulled my arm out in front of my face. My hand shook violently. Well, _most_ of it did. My fingers spasmed and jerked as blood poured out of the gaping crater in my left hand. My eyes dropped to the ground and there, lying in the grass between my shoes, was my thumb and large chunk of palm. Everything left of my life line had been blown off.

My mouth clamped shut and I let out a high pitched squeak.

The acrid, sickly sweet smell of burning flesh and fat filled my nostrils. It was terrible, the worst thing I've ever smelled in my life. I dropped to my knees and vomited up my breakfast. I wanted to scream or move or do something, but I couldn't do anything besides heave my guts on the ground.

Luckily, Puck was doing enough screaming for the both of us. He ran over to me, screaming "holy shit" repeatedly.

David seemed slightly calmer, but his usually tan face had gone pale. "Puck, call Tina. Tell her what happened. I'm gonna take her back."

He bent down, gingerly picked up my thumb, and put it in my other hand. "Sorry," he said, grimacing, "but you're gonna have to hold this."

"Oh my god," I whispered, breathing raggedly. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod."

David swept me up bridal style and broke into a run. All the bouncing caused my hand to throb even more and there was still blood seeping out of the wound. I swallowed and looked away just in time to see that David was about to run straight into a tree. At the last minute, he jumped, ran straight up the trunk, and leapt into the air.

Suddenly, we were flying over the tree tops, shifting slightly as the wind rushed by us.

"What the hell is this?" I screamed, burying my face into his chest. "What are you even _doing_ right now?"

David tightened his grip on me. "Stop moving, you're going to make me crash."

Flying wasn't really what I imagined it would be like. Every time you see Superman fly, he just hops up in the air and does his thing. David needed a running start and he had to kick with his legs every so often to keep moving. It was more like swimming than the smooth gliding they do in movies.

"Hang on," he said over the sound of the wind. "We're coming in for a landing."

He swung his legs in front of him and we slowly approached the ground next to the lab. He hit the ground running, jostling me a bit and causing more blood to flow down my arm. I shouted in pain, which caused me to breathe in a fresh whiff of burning horribleness and I started gagging again. Tina was standing by the open door, waiting.

"What happened?" she asked, walking quickly behind David as he hurried inside.

"Blew her thumb off," David replied. He carried me into Tina's medical examination room and sat me on a cot.

Tina grabbed a pair of latex gloves and dragged a tray of medical crap over. "Oh, that's all? You could've handled that."

"Well, the thumb fell on the ground and it's pretty dirty," David said, pointing at my bloody hands. "We're not on the battlefield, might as well use our resources."

"'That's all'?" I tried to get up, but David grabbed my shoulders and kept me seated. "What do you mean 'that's all'? _I blew my thumb off_. I'm sorry I couldn't drop dead and make this more exciting for you. Next time, I'll aim for the face."

"Can you put your dramatics on hold so I can fix this?" Tina huffed. She held her hand out. "Give me your hand."

Hesitantly, I stretched my arm out to her. She grabbed my wrist and I winced.

"Sorry," she said. She pulled out a large wet sponge and began to clean the blood off of the wound. Despite her best efforts to be gentle, pain shot up my arm every time she touched me.

"Watch it, Cristina Yang," I hissed. "That really hurts."

She rolled her eyes and held out her other hand. "Okay, give me your thumb."

I handed her the thumb, which she promptly dropped in a tub of clear liquid.

"Can you be careful with that please? I'd like it returned in the condition I gave it to you."

Tina pulled my thumb out and wiped it thoroughly with some disinfecting wipes. "So, you'd like it filthy and disconnected from your hand. Is that what you're telling me?"

"Just reattach it already," I mumbled under my breath, glaring at the floor.

She dried my thumb off and gently positioned it over the wound. "Okay, now charge up a little and direct the energy to this area. Keep it right at the surface."

The area around the wound glowed faintly as I sent energy that way. Tina pressed my thumb down and slowly, the skin began to meld together. There was a loud clicking sound as the bone reattached. I could feel the flesh under my skin rearranging and healing itself.

"Puck just lost his Most Disturbing Award," I said, thoroughly disgusted.

"He's gonna be crushed."

My now-reattached thumb gave a wild jerk as if it wanted to give my body a thumbs-up for healing itself.

"Okay, you can stop now." Tina let go of my wrist and patted my knee. She stood up and started packing up her medical stuff. "All done."

I stopped the energy flow (because I was never going to forget to do _that_ again) and wiggled my thumb. It seemed to be perfectly fine, except now there was a dark ring around the healed area. The ring was several shades darker than my skin. From far off you probably couldn't really see it, but up close, it looked ridiculous. I rubbed at the mark with my finger, trying to see if it would come off.

"Don't bother," David said, standing up. "That's permanent. Major injuries are gonna leave marks. It's one of the drawbacks of speed healing."

He pulled up his shirt sleeve, revealing a large dark ring that circled his shoulder and went into his armpit. "Make sure you don't amputate anything else. I'm gonna let Puck know that everything's okay."

"Where is he?" I asked, still trying to rub the line off of my skin.

Tina dumped the tub of clear liquid down the sink. "He's not allowed in here if you're in here. We don't need a repeat of the Mohawk Incident."

David gave me a little wave as he walked out of the door. I started to get up, but Tina stopped me.

"Hey, where's the fire?" She handed me a tiny bottle of Gatorade and small bag of Famous Amos cookies. "Take a seat."

I pushed the food away. "Ew, I'm not eating this. These are crappy blood drive snacks. I was also just visited by the ghost of my breakfast, so I'm not exactly in an eating mood right now."

She pushed it back. "Eat, Santana. No arguments. Your body just went through a traumatic experience."

"My life is a traumatic experience," I grumbled, taking the food from her. I sat back down on the cot and opened my snacks.

"Just because you're all healed up doesn't mean you don't need to rest."

_God, what is she, my mother now? …actually, my mother would never say anything like that._

"I'm sure I'd be getting more rest if I could actually sleep for longer than an episode of Oprah."

"I was hoping that problem would go away," she sighed. "The guys are usually like that for a day or two after they Juice, but it gets better during the week."

Just then, Ben walked down the hallway, passing by the open doorway. He stopped for a second and gave me the meanest glare I've ever received.

_I hope he doesn't have heat vision, because if he does, he's gonna set my ass on fire._

"I'm not allowed to yell at you anymore," he announced from the hall. He looked at me like the only thing he wanted in life was to scream in my face.

"That's fantastic," I called back. "Best news I've heard all day."

"But if I could yell at you, I'd say that you're stubborn, reckless, and will probably get yourself blown up one day." By the time he finished speaking, he actually _was _yelling.

"All true," I agreed. "If my abuela could yell at me, she'd say the same thing."

"Smart lady," he said and stomped off down the hall like a twelve-year-old girl who just got grounded.

I turned back to Tina. "Well, he's in a good mood."

Tina laughed and took a few of my cookies. "Yeah, he was in my office when Puck called. He's not happy with you right now. He set my trashcan on fire."

_Looks like I'm not the only one with control problems here._

"Why is he not allowed to yell at me?" I asked.

"Figgins found out about your test yesterday and he wasn't okay with what happened. He yelled at everyone after you went to your room." She frowned. "He even yelled at me and I wasn't even there!"

"Well, it's nice to know somebody has my back," I said, handing the cookies to Tina since she was determined to eat them all herself.

"We've all got you back, Santana," Tina said. "Some of us just have a really weird way of showing it. And maybe if we figure out how to help you control your abilities, you might forgive us for dragging you into this mess in the first place."

I chugged my baby Gatorade and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin.

"Speaking of forgiveness," I said, clearing my throat. "I'm supposed to tell you something."

Tina raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Um, yeah." I shifted awkwardly on the cot. "It's about Artie. He had a message for you. I forgot about it with all the crap that's been going on."

"Oh god," Tina snorted. "This should be good."

She leaned forward in her chair and nodded for me to continue.

"Well… he told me to tell you that things were out of his hands now and he didn't mean for any of this to happen. He said he's sorry and he loves-"

"Whoa! Okay!" she laughed, putting both her hands up to stop me. "You don't need to say anything else."

"I promised him I would tell you," I went on. "That's why he unchained me and let me go. I guess I kinda owe him one."

She abruptly stopped laughing and sat up in her chair. "Actually, no. You don't."

Her voice was cold and harsh. I'd never seen Tina look so serious.

"If Artie had left you in the basement, Puck would have found you and the guys would have taken you back to Lima. You never would have been anywhere near the Goo and none of this would have ever happened. So if you want to blame anyone for your current situation, it should be Artie."

_Well, when you put it that way…_

She leaned forward again. I could feel the barely concealed rage coming off of her in waves. "Don't walk around thinking you owe Artie Abrams. He's never been anything more than a selfish dick. I guarantee you he's not giving _you_ a second thought."

I scooted back on the cot, desperately wanting to put some space between myself and Tina's wrath. "Okaaaaay then. I just wanted to let you hear his apology."

"Artie doesn't get to apologize," she spat angrily. Her face softened for a second. "Did you tell Puck about this?"

I shook my head.

"Good. Don't. That's just drama that nobody needs."

I nodded. "Ok, I won't."

She slapped her hands on her thighs and stood. "Fantastic. Try to take a nap if you can. Your body might let you sleep a little more since you took a hit. If you feel any pain at all, just come find me."

"Thanks, Doc." I gave Tina a thumbs up before heading off to my room.

* * *

><p>Under order of King Figgins of McKinley, my training was split up into three separate sessions. Each class was taught by one of our resident superfreaks while the other two supervised. I guess this was supposed to reduce the number of injuries and mental breakdowns.<p>

Ben's sessions were like a math class ("If a 10 pound rock is flying toward you at 20 miles an hour, what is the diameter and intensity level of the beam you should use to deflect it without shattering it? Round your answers to the nearest tenth").

David's sessions were like a yoga class ("Become one with the energy, watch the beam and the rock as they commune in the air").

And Puck's sessions were like a clusterfuck ("I'm gonna throw this TV-sized boulder at your face and if you don't blow it up, it's probably gonna smash your head in").

To Ben's credit, learning how to actually use my powers did help me with control. The car analogy was spot on. But I would never tell him that.

It was the longest ten days of my life, but at the end of the training period, I was far more confident in my ability to live amongst normal human beings without fear of accidentally killing them in a fit of rage.

On the one month anniversary of my unfortunate meeting with Blaine, the McKinley crew lined up outside of the laboratory to bid me farewell. I didn't have a bag to pack since I had arrived with nothing but the clothes on my back. I returned Tina's clothes to her, but as a parting gift, Puck gave me a gigantic black sweat suit to wear home.

"Well, Ms. Lopez," Figgins said, "I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but such is life. Best of luck to you in the future!"

"Right back at ya, Figgins," I said, giving his hand a firm shake.

"Thanks for not letting me die, Doc" I said sticking my hand out to Tina. She pushed my hand away and pulled me into a hug.

"Be safe and be careful," she said, squeezing me. Himanshu turned to me and held out his arms out for a hug.

"Come here, you!" he grinned, stepping into my personal space.

I jabbed my finger into his forehead and pushed him backwards. "What did I say about hugging?"

He sighed and hung his head. "There will be no hugging under any circumstances whatsoever."

"That's right," I said, patting his shoulder. "You know these rules are for your safety. I'd hate to have to kick your ass."

"I appreciate your concern for my well-being," he replied brightly. I just shook my head and walked away from him.

Without any of the pomp and circumstance of his predecessors, Ben stuck out his hand for me to shake. As we shook hands, he looked me over, like he was sizing me up. Finally, he let go and said "You'll be okay. If you just keep your head down and stay out of trouble, you'll be fine."

It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, so I just nodded and thanked him for his help.

Puck lifted me off the ground and spun me around because he's immature. He set me down on my feet next to the passenger door of the car I was leaving in. He grinned broadly and playfully punched me in the shoulder. "Hey, if you ever get in any trouble, give us shout and we'll help you out, okay? Team McKinley's got your back."

"Please don't get into any trouble," Ben said.

"Wasn't planning on it," I laughed, sliding into the seat. "I'll see you guys around."

I shut the door and buckled my seatbelt. David was sitting in the driver's seat, fiddling with the radio.

"Ready to go home?" he asked.

"I've never been more ready for anything in my life."

* * *

><p>We rolled into Lima Heights around 11PM. It was dark and it was late.<p>

"Uh… you live here?" David locked his doors and rolled up the windows.

"Lima Heights, born and raised," I said proudly. "I know it looks a little rough, but it's home. And it's got the lowest rent in the county. What's not to love?"

_Wow, with a spiel like that, you could sell prime real estate in this hell hole._

"Is there a gas station around here or something?" David asked. "I really could use something to drink before I have to put on a show for your roommate."

David was supposed to be the guy who found me hitchhiking on the side of the road after my daring escape.

"Yeah, just make the next right. There's a convenience store down the street from my apartment."

Luckily, there was a free parking space relatively close to Zippy Mart. David parallel parked and grabbed his wallet from the cup holder.

"Okay, I'll be right back," he said, stepping out of the car. "You gonna be okay out here?"

"Don't worry. If anybody tries to steal your car, I'll blast them into next week," I reassured him.

"I'm holding you to that," he said, winking at me before shutting the door.

I pulled up my hood and leaned my head against the tinted windows as I watched David walk to Zippy Mart, the best/worst convenience store in the Heights. It was the best convenience store because it had the widest selection of crap and you could get anything you needed there. It was the worst because Uncle Zippy, the owner, took about thirty minutes to ring up a pack of gum. Uncle Zippy was probably the oldest human being ever to exist. He came to America a long time ago from "the old country", or so he says. Mercedes and I have a theory that when Pangaea started to separate, dinosaurs chased Uncle Zippy into Lima Heights and he just decided to stay there and open up a store.

Four hoodlums (there's an Uncle Zippy word for you) were standing outside the store, loitering and looking bored. They gave David a once-over as he went inside, but even though David was a nice guy, he was built like a Mack truck and had a killer don't-fuck-with-me face. They quickly looked away and went back to their business, or lack thereof.

They showed far more interest, however, in the couple who came out of Zippy Mart a few seconds later. She was a tall, shapely brunette dressed in a business suit and he was a lanky looking man with a sweater tied around his neck. They didn't pay the group any attention as they walked, didn't look around at _anything_. I watched in the rearview mirror as they passed by and continued to walk to their car, which was parked as far away from the streetlights as humanly possible. As they walked, the man patted his pockets, then said something to the woman. She proceeded to dig around in her purse, apparently looking for car keys. These people had "East Lima" written all over them.

_Fucking idiots._

It was dark and it was late.

I didn't even have to look up to know that they were being followed. By the time _they_ finally noticed, it was too late.

The entire scene played out in the rearview mirror.

The man turned around, ready to swing, but two of the thugs grabbed him and the other two grabbed the woman. Her scream was cut off by a blow to the head and an arm around her throat. They disappeared, dragged down the nearest alleyway, and the whole thing was over almost as quickly as it had begun.

Well, maybe not "over."

Because sitting there in the car, less than 30 feet away from the mouth of the alley, I knew something horrible was happening to these people.

It wasn't over. I just couldn't see it.

And yeah, maybe they were idiots for stopping in the Heights after dark on their way back from the country club. Maybe they should've waited until they got downtown, or at least to Lima Heights Adjacent, where the cops are more likely to show up when something goes down. But whether or not the whole thing could've been prevented, it didn't change the fact that it was happening. And I was just sitting there, letting it.

_Remember that time Abuela got mugged on her way home from Zippy Mart?_

Immediately, I opened the car door. Everything in my mind and body came to a screeching halt.

_What the fuck do you think you're doing, Lopez?_

Now, that the door was open, I could hear the sound of a scuffle in the alley. A muffled scream.

_It was the middle of the day and she fought back and screamed for help, but _nobody would help her.

Somebody laughed. I swung my legs out of the car.

_Are you fucking serious right now? Get back in the car and lock the door!_

My hand shot out to grab the door handle, but when it got there, it hovered slightly, shaking, not advancing or retreating.

_She was a tough old lady. She had been mugged before, but never in the daytime. She didn't want you to know how scared she was after that. Scared that it could happen to her again or worse, to you. But somehow, you could tell._

There was a whimper and the sound of a glass bottle skittering across the asphalt. I stood up.

_Get back in the car! You're two blocks from your house. You're almost home. Don't be an idiot!_

A shout of pain. The sound of a slap. More scuffling. More laughing.

_And you were so little that you didn't understand. You wondered 'what kind of person would just let my abuelita get hurt? What kind of person would sit there and do nothing?'_

The woman was crying. She was too young to be somebody's abuelita, and she would probably never get the chance to be one.

_Have you learned _nothing_ this month? STOP GETTING MIXED UP IN OTHER PEOPLE'S SHIT!_

It was dark and it was late.

_Control is mental._

You're _mental. You're gonna get yourself killed for a couple of East Lima yuppies that you don't even know. Capital idea, Lopez. Your intelligence is astounding._

I walked toward the spot where they'd disappeared, letting the energy flow throughout my body, letting it fill the places where I'd need it. I pulled my hood up further, hiding most of my face from view.

_One day, you're going to have to be the person you say you are, Santanita._

And when I knew I was ready, I stepped into the open mouth of the alley, into the darkness.

* * *

><p>It was a stroke of good luck on my part that everyone was facing away from me. I could tell my eyes were glowing by the way things around me lit up when I turned my head. If they had been facing me, they would've seen me coming.<p>

As it was, they were a little preoccupied.

Three of the hoodlums were beating the shit out of the man with the sweater around his neck. One of them was actually choking him with his sweater. The remaining hoodlum held the woman, who had given up on screaming and was watching her boyfriend get his ass kicked.

All that dramatic waffling in the car caused me to forget one important detail.

I didn't really have a plan.

_When do you ever have a plan? You're here now. Do something._

So I did the only thing that made any sense. Seconds before I acted, I had the foresight to use a trick that Puck taught me in my final days at McKinley 6. I charged up my vocal chords.

"_Leave them alone!"_ I commanded in a distorted voice. It wasn't as clear and smooth as Puck's. Puck sounded like Optimus Prime in the Transformers movies. I sounded like that creepy puppet from Saw, if he ate a cup of dirt and smoked crack daily for 30 years.

Everyone's head whipped around to face me, except for the sweater man, who sank to the ground.

"What the fuck is this?" one of the hoodlums demanded. "Who the fuck are you?" He sounded like he could've been part of the Jersey Shore cast. He shielded his eyes with his hand.

"Who is that?"

"I dunno, I can't see! It's too bright!"

"Look at his eyes!"

I didn't bother correcting the gender pronoun. I didn't want them to have any ideas about who I might be.

"_Leave them alone,"_ I repeated. _"Let them go and nobody has to get hurt."_

"Nobody has to get hurt?" The first guy, who seemed to be the leader, laughed loudly. "You're the one who's about to get hurt, motherfucker. You think just because you have a flashlight on your head that we're gonna be scared or something?"

"How would it be a flashlight?" another one asked, sounding really confused. "How would that even fit in there?"

"Shut up, Joey!" the leader snapped, slapping Joey on the back of the head.

"It doesn't make any sense!" Joey cried out. He rubbed the back of his head and looked at the bleeding semi-conscious man on the ground for support.

"_It's not a flashlight,"_ I said, slightly offended. _"But if you don't believe me, you could always come over here and find out."_

"Take your flashlight and get the fuck out of here before we kick your ass too." Fearless Leader turned away from me and grabbed the woman by her hair, yanking it roughly. "You're breaking up our little party. Isn't that right, cutie?"

The woman looked at me with pleading eyes, silently begging for help. I gulped. I was hoping my creepy eyes and voice would be enough to stop this shit from happening, but these scumbags were stubborn.

The other guys didn't turn their backs to me. They probably would have run off if Fearless Leader hadn't insisted on being confrontational. Unfortunately, they'd put the wrong guy in charge. Too bad for them.

I opened my hand, producing a glowing white ball of energy the size of an apple.

"_Hey, Joey,"_ I called. _"Catch."_

I lobbed the ball at him, underhand. Like a true moron, he cupped his hands in front of him and followed its trajectory, catching it just before it reached him. Bright white light flashed as it touched his skin and the ball broke apart into nothingness. In the glow of the eerie light coming out of my face, I could see the flesh on the palms of his hands being burned away. He dropped to his knees.

"Fuck!" he screamed. "It burns! My fucking hands!" He fell over to his side, rolling and writhing on the ground.

The smell of burning flesh was back, even worse than when I'd sliced my thumb off. A dry heave ripped through me before I could stop it. I pulled my shirt up over my nose.

"What the fuck did you do to Joey? Is that some kind of trick?" Fearless Leader screamed. He reached into his jeans and pulled out a gun. "I didn't like that trick. But I've got a trick of my own for ya."

He shouldn't have stopped to give a villain speech. By the time he was ready to pull the trigger, I already had my arm in position. I opened my hand again, and lobbed a ball the size of grapefruit right at his shooting hand. He fired into the ball, but the bullet ricocheted off of it and lodged itself into the brick wall next to him. The ball smacked into his fist and his arm snapped violently at the wrist. It went sliding up his arm, leaving a burning trail all the way up to his shoulder.

He howled in pain as his broken wrist flopped downward. The gun glowed red hot and try as he might, he couldn't uncurl his fingers to release it.

"_Abracadabra, shithead. Did you like that trick?"_ I choked out a snarky taunt right before my stomach tried to empty itself again.

Fearless Leader was crying and Joey was curled up in the fetal position on the ground.

The other two guys were apparently the brains of the operation. One shoved the woman away and picked up Joey, while the other kicked the gun out of Fearless Leader's hand.

I pointed at one of them. "_For my next trick, you're all gonna disappear._"

"Let's get the fuck out of here!"

They ran out of the other end of the alley, stumbling over each other like The Three Stooges. I waited until they sounded far, far away before I powered down. I staggered to the end of the alley, weaving drunkenly with my head spinning. Then I dropped to my knees, and vomited my guts out. The man and woman hurriedly limped past me to their car and I slid deeper into my hood as they passed.

A car engine started and then a voice nearby scared the shit out of me.

"Thank you, sir," the woman said softly. I looked up at her. She was crouched down next to me in the darkness, looking at me like I'd saved her life or something.

I probably had.

"Get the fuck out of Lima Heights," I croaked, fighting back a dry heave. Her eyes widened, maybe because of the profanity, but more than likely because my voice was undeniably female. "Do not _ever_ come back here. Stay out of West Lima entirely because I won't be there next time and your boyfriend fights like a Care Bear."

She nodded her head profusely. "Of course. We won't."

"Go home now. This never happened."

"Of course," she repeated. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she still had that look of awe and wonder on her face. It made me want to slap her, but that felt wrong after what just happened. She turned around and sprinted away to the car, hopping into the driver's seat. They sped off into the distance.

The entire ordeal took less than ten minutes.

I crawled on my hands and knees out of the alley, still nauseated. I staggered to my feet and stumbled past David's car, heading straight for Zippy's. As soon as I reached the front of the store, I dropped to my knees again and vomited whatever liquid was left in my stomach. That horrible smell was everywhere.

The bell above the door jingled and someone made a disgusted noise.

"In my day, we would never be wandering about in such a state," a familiar voice mumbled. I turned my head towards the light and let my hood fall back. The man stopped.

"Santana?" Mr. Rosenbaum asked, shocked. My head was swimming so I just made a grunting noise. He had a grocery bag in one hand and a loaded Luger in the other because _that's_ how you're supposed to go shopping after dark in Lima Heights.

He yelled something Yiddish and dropped to his knees in front of me, taking my face in his hands.

"Santana! What happened? You've been missing!"

_As if I didn't know._

I dry heaved and he jumped back, trying to avoid anything that might come up.

"Come on, darling," he said urgently, attempting to pull me to my feet. "You look like you need to go to the hospital."

He draped my arm over his shoulder to support my weight, even though we were roughly the same size and he was a pretty old dude. Not Zippy old, but sill.

Just then, David walked out of the store carrying two bags filled with snacks.

"Move out of the way!" Mr. Rosenbaum shouted. "We've gotten an emergency here!"

David and I locked eyes for a moment and he seemed to make some kind of decision in his head.

"I said get out of the way!" Mr. Rosenbaum huffed, trying to push past David.

"Excuse me, sir, but your friend looks ill." he said. His voice was calming and gentle, yet at the same time, authoritative and firm. "Perhaps, I can be of some assistance. I'm a doctor."

Mr. Rosenbaum stopped in his tracks. "Oh! Why didn't you say so?"

"Does your friend live nearby?" David asked.

"Yes!" Suddenly, he remembered his groceries and gun, lying on the sidewalk behind us. "We live in the building down the street. My Esther had an upset stomach and couldn't sleep so I ran to the store for some ginger ale."

"Let's take her there and I can see what's wrong," David suggested. "It's not too safe out here."

_You're preaching to the choir, Reverend Martinez._

David picked me up like I weighed nothing and Mr. Rosenbaum picked up his groceries.

"You were supposed to stay in the car," David whispered so that only I could hear.

"Some shit went down," I whispered back.

"Ben was right. You really can't follow directions."

"It's not my fault. It's genetic."

David carried me the two remaining blocks to my house and Mr. Rosenbaum let us into the building. We took the elevator up to the 10th floor. Mr. Rosenbaum walked up to the door of 1010 and began to pound on it.

"Mercedes!" he called. "Samuel! It's Mr. Rosenbaum! Please hurry, it's an emergency!"

He pounded on the door again. "Mercedes! Sam-"

The door swung open and there was Sam, black Beiber bangs hanging in his half-open eyes.

"Ah, Samuel! Good evening!"

"What's going on?" he asked groggily. He looked curiously at David and then his eyes landed on me. His big, trouty mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide.

"MERCEDES!" He threw the door open and ran back inside the apartment toward my bedroom. "Baby, wake up! It's Santana!"

David walked me inside and sat me on the couch. "Ok, Santana, open your mouth for me and say 'aaahhh'."

_Seriously? Are we really gonna do this right now?_

"Aaaah," I said unenthusiastically. He pretended to look in my mouth for something, and then pretended he found it.

"Okay," David said approvingly. "Have you had anything to eat or drink today?"

Mr. Rosenbaum snapped his fingers as if he just remembered something. "Oh! I should probably let my wife know I'm back before she calls the police!"

He hurried out of the room and David sat back on the couch.

"Finally," David breathed. "I couldn't think of anymore doctor things to do."

I smiled, but my stomach lurched.

"Are you okay?" David whispered.

"Yeah, the smell just makes me really sick." The thought of it made me want to vomit again. My stomach muscles spasmed and my mouth watered.

"What smell?"

"It's-"

Mercedes appeared in the living room, clad in her Hello Kitty pajama pants and a Ladies Night shirt. She stared at me for a minute, and then threw herself across the room into my arms. Even though I felt like I'd just ridden the rollercoaster from hell, I hugged her back as hard as I could.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked, sobbing hard into my shoulder. "Am I dreaming right now?"

"No," I whispered. "It's me. I'm really here."

She sobbed harder, gripping my hoody and whispering "thank you, Jesus" over and over again. I simultaneously fought back tears and the still-present waves of nausea. Just because I cried in front of Puck didn't mean I was putting on traveling weep shows for the whole neighborhood now.

Mr. Rosenbaum came back with Mrs. Rosenbaum in tow. She made some kind of cooing noise, fawning over our little reunion, while Mercedes held on to me for dear life.

Sam stood nearby smiling at us until he remembered David was there.

"I'm sorry, who are you again?" he asked, sticking out his hand.

"Dr. Berlin," David replied cheerfully, shaking Sam's hand. I rolled my eyes at him and his grin widened. "But please, call me David. I was just passing through. Your friend here seems to be doing better now. Do you think I could use your restroom before I go?"

"Sure, I'll show you wear it is." Sam stood and led David to the bathroom.

"We're going to get going, dear," Mrs. Rosenbaum said, patting me on the shoulder. "It's so good to see you again."

I nodded. "Likewise. Thanks for the help, Mr. Rosenbaum."

He saluted me and they both walked back across the hall, shutting the door behind them.

David emerged from the restroom. He clapped his hands together. "Okay, Santana, you're all good to go."

He looked at Sam and Mercedes, and then leaned in close. "Yo dejé algo para ti en el baño."

"Thanks, doctor," I said. "Thanks for everything. Drive safely."

David said goodnight to Sam and Mercedes and finally made his exit.

And then we were alone.

It was weird sitting in my living room after a month of being away. It felt like years had passed since the last time I sat on my couch.

Mercedes rested her on my shoulder. "Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"Where _were_ you?" she asked. The confusion and the fear in her voice made my chest hurt.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow? I'm kinda tired," I lied.

"Of course, whatever you want," she said softly, squeezing my knee. "Are you hungry? Sam made spaghetti."

She had this hopeful look on her face, like if I ate the pasta it would somehow erase the events of the entire month. Even though eating was the last thing I wanted to do, I figured I could do it for her.

"Sure," I said, smiling. "I'd love some spaghetti."

* * *

><p>I woke up in my bed. The clock read 5:45am, exactly three hours after I'd gone to sleep. I groaned in annoyance.<p>

"What's wrong?"

I almost jumped out of my skin. Mercedes was lying beside me, reading a book. She closed it and looked over at me.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "Where's Sam?"

"He just left. Gym."

I nodded. "Of course."

She pulled my blanket back up to my neck. "Go back to sleep. It's early."

I inhaled deeply because I knew how Mercedes was going to react.

"I don't really sleep very much anymore," I said quietly, meeting her eyes.

She bit her lip and looked away. "You… you don't?"

"No, I just… it's hard to explain," I sighed.

"Can you try to explain?" She looked at me with pleading eyes. "I want to help you with whatever you're going through. I want you to be okay. I just feel so…" She held her open hands in front of her and shook her head.

_Helpless? Confused? Upset? Me too._

"I don't even want to go to sleep because I'm afraid that when I wake up, you won't be here," she whispered.

"Mercedes," I said, sitting up. "That's not going to happen. I'm here for good."

"You don't know that," she mumbled.

I grinned. "I do know that. I'm gonna stick to you like body glitter on a stripper. You'll never be able to get rid of me now."

"I would never try to do that."

"Good," I said, snuggling up next to her. "Now go to sleep. I'll be over here, sticking to you."

She giggled and rested her head on the pillow, finally letting herself drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>After lunch, I sat Mercedes down on the couch and told her everything I could manage to tell her without sounding like a crazy person. In this version of the story, I was chained up in Kurt's basement for the entire month, only to escape when the shoddily constructed basement wall collapsed. Whenever Mercedes asked me something I couldn't answer (ex: "what happened to your thumb?"), I blamed it on Kurt.<p>

David and I had practiced my story over and over again in the car, but there were things I hadn't anticipated.

The whole ending was fucked because David was supposed to being playing the role of the handsome stranger who I hitchhiked home with. Unfortunately, David had recast himself as "Dr. Berlin", so I had to come up with an alternate ending where I stowed away in a horse trailer that just happened to end up in West Lima.

_This must be from the DVD Extras of the Director's Cut of a Lifetime movie loosely based on a true event that almost kinda happened._

Luckily, Mercedes was less concerned about the details and more interested in my physical and mental wellbeing, which I also had to lie about. Her second concern was catching the rat bastards who caused all this.

"First thing tomorrow, you're going to the police station," she said firmly.

"You're not coming?" I asked.

"Can't." She played with the tassels on our ugly couch pillows. "I missed a lot of work this month. I had to beg them to let me stay home today. If I don't go in tomorrow, it's a wrap."

I frowned. "Mercedes."

"I tried, okay?" She shrugged and looked out the window. "I just didn't make it in all the time."

"Sam let you miss that much work?" I asked angrily.

"Sam missed as much work as I did. But now that you're back, we can both keep our jobs and that boy can dye his hair back. I love him to death, but he looks like a dirty mop."

"I think it makes his mouth look even larger, if that's possible," I said. She smacked my arm and smiled. "So I take it young Samuel won't be accompanying me either, then?"

"Nope." She pulled out her phone. "I'm sure I can find somebody."

"Well, try not to pick any heavy duty criers," I said. " "Sugar's going to weep out every drop of moisture in her body. I'm horrified in advance."

"Santana, don't be like that."

"What? It's true."

As she scrolled through her contacts, a small smirk appeared on her face.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just gonna text Sugar and ask if she's free tomorrow."

I sighed. "If she comes to pick me up, tell her she's gotta bring her own tissues."

* * *

><p>I decided to go to sleep at 4:30AM. That way, I would wake up exactly at 7:30, just in time to wave goodbye to Mercedes. Like clockwork, I woke up exactly three hours after I fell asleep. I rolled onto my back without opening my eyes and stretched, arching my back and reaching high above my head. I wasn't tired or groggy, but my bed was nice and toasty. I wasn't in any rush to get up. My hand brushed something soft and warm. Mercedes.<p>

"You're gonna be late for work," I said, throwing my arm over her and snuggling into her side.

She froze. Then I froze.

_Uh oh._

I know what Mercedes is supposed to feel like. This was not Mercedes.

"You're not Mercedes," I whispered.

"Nope," the person whispered back. I paused, waiting for an explanation, but they didn't say anything else.

_There's a stranger in my bed. I never thought I'd ever say this, but what would Katy Perry do?_

"You're probably not Sugar either, since you're capable of responding with a single word and your mouth has been closed for more than 10 seconds."

"You let Sugar in your bed?"

My eyes flew open. Brittany's enormous blue eyes were staring back at me, her blond hair spilled wildly all over my pillow.

_This would be totally hot if I weren't creepily latching onto her like a spider monkey._

"Hi, Brittany," I said, smiling awkwardly. I pulled my arms back against my chest and left them resting there like a self-conscious velociraptor.

"Hi, Santana." She didn't return my smile at all. She just stared at me, studying my face.

"Just to be clear, Sugar's not allowed in my bed. Actually, she's been banned from entering this room since the Great Cheetos Incident of 2011."

Brittany didn't answer this time, just letting her eyes continue to roam over my face. I cleared my throat and looked around, not meeting her eyes as she blatantly inspected me.

"Not that I'm not okay with this," I said, "but what are you doing in my bed?"

"Mercedes was sitting here earlier," she said, sitting up. "I could tell she didn't want to leave you and I think it made her feel better when I sat here."

"Oh ok."

Awkward silence.

She frowned. "I can go sit on the couch if you want me to."

_Hey genius, you're about to kick Brittany S. Pierce out of your bed. FYI._

I sat up quickly. "No, no. You're fine. I mean, it's fine. Perfectly fine. You just caught me off guard, that's all. I thought she was going to ask Sugar to come by."

"Do you want me to call Sugar?" Brittany looked down at the black comforter, tracing the stitching patterns with her fingers. "I can understand why you'd want someone else to take you instead."

"I told you, it's completely fine," I said, throwing her another smile. She didn't catch it. She wasn't even looking at me anymore. "Why would I want someone else to take me?"

She just shook her head without answering.

_What's wrong with her? Is she uncomfortable being in my sex dungeon? …I'm really gonna need to start having more sex in here or the county's going to make me rename this room._

I rested my hand on her forearm to get her attention. "Brittany, are you okay?"

She didn't turn to face me. "Are _you_ okay?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"Sure, I'm okay. I'm fine." She turned toward me and I spread my arms wide to show her I was A-OK. Her gaze traveled down my left arm to the dark mark on my hand and she frowned deeply. I quickly put my hands behind my back and smiled sheepishly.

"You're fine?" she asked, finally looking back at my face. "Because Mercedes said you're not sleeping and I don't not sleep when I'm fine."

I took a second to let my brain process the double negative.

"And you lost weight."

"Just a few pounds," I said, patting my stomach. Blowing shit up burns a lot of calories. Even with the return of my appetite, it was hard to keep up. "Nothing a few Big Macs can't fix."

"What about your hand?" She reached behind my back for my arm, took my left hand in both of hers, and turned it over to inspect it. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it's all healed, I swear," I insisted, hoping to put her mind at ease.

"You need to have this looked at," she said, trailing her fingers gently over the scar. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "This is all my fault."

She inhaled a deep, shaky breath and tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, no tears," I cooed gently. "I'm alright, I swear."

"I- I just… Santana, I'm so _sorry_." Her voice broke at the end of her sentence and then the dam broke. She put her face in her hands and started to cry.

I pulled her into my chest and rubbed her back as she cried. I made every comforting noise I knew of, including some that are probably only supposed to be used on dogs and babies. Finally, she calmed down enough to speak.

"This is all my fault," she repeated. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Brittany, how could any of this be your fault? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I was the last one to talk to you before you went missing." She wiped her eyes and hung her head. "I was just sitting there eating a turkey sandwich while someone was hurting you, Santana." She sniffled and swallowed a sob, taking another deep, shaky breath to stop herself from crying.

"You couldn't have known that was going to happen." I rubbed her arms soothingly, trying to keep her calm enough to talk.

"I could've called you back instead of texting you," she whispered. "I could've called the cops when you didn't text me back. I could've done a million things, but I didn't do anything. I just thought you were busy and you'd call back when you could. But you weren't busy, you were _missing_. I didn't even know about it until I went to the club two days later and Sugar said-". She burst into tears again.

"Brittany-"

She sat up slightly. "I tried so hard, Santana, I really did. I went to the police station and I told them everything I knew, but they weren't much help. I went to the cell phone people and tried to get them to track you. I talked to every place in the city where you can drop off packages. I did everything I could think of and nobody could find you!"

I'd completely forgotten about the whole "dropping off packages" lie and I suddenly felt like the scum of the earth.

"Brittany, listen to me," I said firmly, taking both of her hands. I waited for her to look into my eyes. "Are you listening?"

She nodded.

"Repeat after me: there is nothing…"

"There is nothing…"

"That I could have done…"

"That I could have done…"

"To change what happened to Santana."

Brittany dropped my hands and narrowed her eyes. "That's not true."

"It is true." I grabbed her hands again. "Right after I hung up with you, shit started going bad, so you couldn't have called me. And the police weren't going to look for someone who had only been missing for 5 minutes. What could you have done to change that?"

"I don't know," she huffed. "Something. Anything."

"I hate that you're beating yourself up about this," I said softly. "I don't want you walking around feeling guilty about stuff that's not even remotely your fault. I know exactly whose fault this is and it's not yours. It's a man's fault. A gay man in a purple suit."

She looked at me quizzically. "A gay man in purple suit?"

I nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah. Very gay. Very purple."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" she sniffed, wiping her eyes.

"A gay man in purple suit makes you feel better?" I asked, grinning.

"No, the part before that," she said, suppressing a giggle. "The 'not my fault' part."

"It's all true. So no tears, okay?" I wiped her cheek with my thumb and she smiled a little.

"A gay man in a purple suit does kind of make me feel better," she admitted.

"He had a bowler hat with peacock feathers in it."

She snorted loudly, then immediately slapped her hand over her mouth. "Santana, this is supposed to be serious. We're not supposed to laugh about this kind of stuff."

"We can laugh about stuff that's not supposed to be funny," I said, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb. "I'm sick of being scared and angry all the time. It's exhausting. Something bad happened, yeah okay, but I'm tired of feeling bad about it. So we should laugh if we want to, even if other people think it's inappropriate."

"If you ever feel scared or angry…" she paused, looking down at my hands. "If you ever feel like you need to talk to someone, call me, okay? We can laugh together."

I nodded and she smiled brightly in response.

"I wanna help you the same way you helped me. I never thanked you for that. You really have helped me… work through some things and I really appreciate it. So thank you, Santana."

"Don't worry about-"

She leaned over and gently kissed my cheek, derailing my train of thought and causing me to forget the entire English language.

_1._

Almost instantly, a low hum began somewhere inside me. Energy coursed through my body at low levels, from my toes to my fingertips, as her lips and nose pressed against my skin. It wasn't a quick peck and it was longer than any cheek kiss I'd ever given or received. She lingered there for a long moment, then backed away with a smile slowly spreading across her face.

And that's when I knew I was fucked.

* * *

><p><strong>Spanish translations (from Google Translate and my own rusty, dusty Spanish knowledge):<strong>

"Eso parece divertido" = "That looks like fun"  
>"Yo dejé algo para ti en el baño" = "I left something for you in the bathroom."<p>

**A/N:** So! Now we're back in Lima and a whole new batch of things will start happening (most importantly, Brittana things and superhero!things). I would call this the end of the "introductory arc" of this story, since all of the major players have been introduced in some capacity. Minor characters will just pop up as they pop up.

I won't be doing any more spoilers because we see how that turned out last time XD But, as we all know, we're about to take a trip downtown to visit our good friends at the Lima Police Department. As a warning, let me tell you that I have no knowledge of how law enforcement and the legal system work outside of what I see on SVU, CSI: Miami, and Judge Judy. So, prepare for a hot steaming mess of inaccuracy and lazy googling.

As always, all feedback is welcome (good, bad, and ugly) and I will always answer questions if I can. I also joined the cool kids club and got a tumblr (lateinlifetiburon) so if you want to hit me up there, you can do that as well.

Gracias and hasta luego,  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	7. Pigs

**A/N:** So in the last chapter, we completed our setup phase and now we're back home. But WTF has been going on in Lima while we were away?

I'd like to mention that I have nothing against police officers XD

Apparently Santana knows a lot of fictional cop characters for no particular reason. Maybe she just watched a lot of TV when she was younger. I've provided a fictional cop reference guide at the end for you, so if you don't recognize a name, you don't have to run to the Google Machine. Just look at the end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Fox/RIB does.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: Pigs<strong>

If someone had walked into my room at that moment, they would've assumed that Brittany and I had just had the most glorious clothed sexual encounter in the history of lady love. I was blushing and sweating like we'd actually _done_ something instead of just sharing a harmless, though lengthy, kiss on the cheek.

Brittany had backed away slightly, resting her hand on my knee, but she was still pretty close. As she looked at me, the smile on her face slowly faded. Her expression became serious as she slowly leaned back in and softly pressed her lips to the corner of my mouth.

_3._

_Oh god, somebody help me._

I closed my eyes as tightly as I could, trying to will away the hazy whiteness and calm down. My heart was pounding in my chest. My face was hot and I was sweating bullets. I balled my bed sheet up tightly in my first under the comforter and took a deep breath through my nose, trying to regain some semblance of control.

_She's not even really kissing you! Cool your jets before you explode over nothing._

_3… 2… 1…_

She pulled back and pressed her lips there again, more firmly this time. Her lips parted slightly, allowing the very tip of her soft, wet tongue to touch my skin. She hummed softly against me, and a kiss that started out as innocent and chaste suddenly became something decidedly _not_. Her mouth opened wider and ran her tongue against the edge of my bottom lip.

_4._

My arm jerked and there was a loud rip as my sheet tore down the middle. Brittany jerked back at the sudden noise.

"What was that?" she asked, looking around for the source of the sound.

_3… 2… 1… 0._

I blinked and shook my head as what was left of my brain tried to form a coherent thought. "I… I have no idea."

We stared at each other for a moment. Now that there was some distance between us, she looked really, really embarrassed.

"I... I, uh-" she started.

_Incoming: awkwardness! Do something!_

I threw the covers back and jumped out of the bed.

"I'm gonna go get dressed!" I said, shouting for no apparent reason.

_Sooooo you're gonna act like you just snorted a line? Perfect._

Brittany looked momentarily startled before turning red and averting her gaze.

I felt cool air on my thighs and looked down, suddenly realizing that I hadn't ripped my sheet at all. I'd ripped my pajama bottoms, which were now hanging loosely around my knees. My Spongebob underpants were on display for all the world to see.

"Whoa!" I quickly pulled my shirt down in an attempt to cover my cartoon-clad naughty bits.

As I inched around the bed, I snagged some clothes off of the floor and walked backwards out of the room. Brittany's face was hidden in her hands, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

"I'll be in the bathroom," I said from the doorway, then hurried down the hall so I could privately wallow in my shame.

I slammed the door behind me and let my head fall back against it.

_It is way too early for this shit._

I peeled off my sweaty shirt, trashed my ripped pants, and looked down at Spongebob. His big, yellow face grinned up at me from below my waist.

_Well at least I was wearing underwear today._

I quickly brushed my teeth and threw on some clothes. I had just finished brushing my hair when I suddenly remembered that "Dr. Berlin" had left me a gift somewhere in the bathroom.

I checked the medicine cabinet, the cabinets under the sink, the shower, and behind the toilet.

…_nothing looks out of place. I wonder if Mercedes picked it up by mistake._

I let my eyes wander around the space, trying to locate an area where someone could hide something for several days. Finally, my eyes landed on the toilet tank.

_He wouldn't._

Reluctantly, I lifted up the lid and there, sitting in the water, was an airtight plastic bag.

_He did._

"Seriously, David?" I groaned aloud.

Luckily, one corner was sticking out of the water. I gingerly pulled it the bag out and laid it on top of the toilet tank lid on the floor. I ripped the dry corner and fished out the contents.

Inside the bag was an iPhone and a pair of aviators. There were two unread text messages in the inbox.

_Berlin: If you need any help, give us a shout.  
>Berlin: Keep the sunglasses on hand. They can be useful when things get "too bright" ;)<em>

Three contacts were already programmed into the phone: Amsterdam, Berlin, and Cairo. I cleaned up the mess I made in the bathroom before sending a text back.

_-An iPhone? Sweet. You can be like my rich gay sugar daddy.  
>Berlin: Not much sugar in this daddy, I'm afraid. I'm more like a Splenda daddy ;)<em>

_-Well, I tried. You could've put the bag under the sink, you jerk.  
>Berlin: Now, where's the fun in that? ;)<em>

-_ I've already filled my fun quota for the day, thank you very much.  
>Berlin: Oh? I hope you're not getting into trouble already.<em>

_-No trouble, but my potential lady friend just saw me in my cartoon underwear. I may have to leave the state out of embarrassment.  
>Berlin: Oh I know the feeling. I'm always embarrassed when ladies see me in my underwear ;)<em>

_-Oh shut up with your winky face.  
>Berlin: You love the winky, everybody does ;)<em>

I washed my hands and walked down the hall to my bedroom, turning the phone on silent. It didn't make sense for me to suddenly have a brand new iPhone, so I couldn't be seen carrying it around. Luckily, Brittany had moved into the living room, so my room was empty. I tossed the phone and the shades into my desk drawer and went back out to the living room.

Brittany was sitting on the couch, idly playing with one of the ugly couch pillows. She seemed to be whisper-fighting with someone on the phone.

"Okay, I understand that but… I took the day off, though… you're gonna have to find someone else because there's no way we'll make it down there in time… We? Oh… Well it's me and… um… Santana."

She jerked the phone away from her ear, frowning and rolling her eyes as the person on the other end started to yell into the receiver. She put the phone back to her ear and sighed.

"Quinn, don't do that… I'm just trying to help… Fine, I'll talk to you later then. Bye."

"Everything alright?" I asked, entering the living room and making my presence known.

Brittany straightened up and forced a smile. "Yeah, everything's great!" Her smile dimmed slightly. "It was just Quinn. I guess my boss didn't come in today, so Quinn has to go cover a press conference. She wants me go be miserable with her."

"You don't have to stick around here if you have other things to do." I didn't want Brittany to leave so soon, but I didn't want to hold her up from important work.

Brittany made a face. "No way! Those things are so boring. I took the day off and I'm not the only photographer on the planet. She'll live."

"I can't really her blame her for wanting you to go," I said, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Why have the rest when you can have the best?"

I cringed internally at my own lameness.

_Who talks like that? You sound like a commercial for a used car dealership._

Brittany just grinned. "My pictures are kinda like your drinks then. You can get somebody else to make you one, but you know it's not gonna be as good."

I was tempted to say something cheesy, like how I wished my drinks were as good as her pictures. But I could feel my dopey smile trying to break free and in an effort to suppress it, I simply said, "We should probably get going."

We walked out into the hallway and I suddenly realized I didn't have any keys, identification, money, or my old phone. All that stuff was in my delivery truck or with Blaine. I had to ask the Rosenbaums for our spare key so I could lock up.

"Maybe we can stop at the DMV today, too," Brittany suggested as we took the elevator to the ground floor.

"You don't have to do that," I said. "I'd hate to eat up your entire day off."

"It's fine, Santana," she assured me. "I took the day off to help you out. We can do whatever you need to get done."

She pressed the unlock button on her key fob and a VW Beetle chirped at us from across the street. It was half lemon yellow, half lime green, with brightly colored swirls and flowers painted all over it.

_Lovely. It looks like an Austin Powers movie threw up out here._

"I figured I'd drive," she said. "Is that okay?"

_I'm not riding in that clown car._

"Uh…"

_I will walk, roll, crawl on my belly, tunnel underground before I get in that abomination._

"…sure. Lead the way."

_Is it possible to be whipped without being in an actual relationship?_

I followed Brittany across the street, silently praying to the Volkswagen deities that the car would magically transform into something I would want to be seen in. It didn't. It was even uglier up close.

"Where's your car? Did they ever recover it?" Brittany asked as she slid into the driver's side.

I didn't want to tell her that the unsightly bucket of rust parked in front of us belonged to me.

_They must've picked it up from the Zizes lot. They should've left it there._

"Oh, I'm sure it's around here somewhere," I said, purposely not looking in that direction.

I sat in the passenger's seat, looked up, and almost bit my tongue in half. Three small flags were draped across the dashboard, hanging from suction cups. A gay pride flag, a bisexual pride flag, and a marriage equality flag.

_SHE'S GAY._

The heavens opened and the Hallelujah chorus started playing in my head. Birds sang, angels got their wings, and the sky was filled with rainbows. My heat skipped a beat and I swallowed audibly.

_Well, she practically made out with the side of your face this morning. I'm not sure why this is so surprising._

The radio came on as Brittany buckled her seatbelt. It was set to some random station that was talking about local news.

She pointed at the buttons on the dash as she pulled out onto the street. "We don't have to listen to this. You can turn to whatever station you want. Just don't mess with the presets."

I shrugged. "Oh I don't care, I'll listen to anything. I usually listen to 'Mo in the Morning.' Do you like him?"

"Mo in the Morning" was a radio show that I listened to ever since I started driving for Zizes. The host, Mo, played everything under the sun and he let it be known which music he was being forced to play by the station and which music he played of his own free will. The Zizes trucks had no CD players, tape deck, nothing, so a driver's first order of business was to find the best radio shows and hang onto them for dear life.

She grinned from ear to ear and nodded approvingly like I'd passed some kind of special test. "I _love _'Mo in the Morning.'"

She reached over and changed the station, just as the last song ended.

"Aaaaand we're back!" Mo's smooth voice filled the car and Brittany's grin filled up her entire face.

"This is B104.7 and you're listening to Mo in the Mooooooorning!" she said, matching Mo's pitch and timing perfectly.

_Wow, she really does love this show._

"Before we start our scheduled half hour of crappy Top 40 torture, I'd like to share some good news with you folks today. If you've been listening to our show lately, you know that we've been keeping you updated on the case of missing local woman, Santana Lopez-"

My head snapped up at the mention of my name. I looked at Brittany, who was suddenly concentrating very intensely on the road.

"-and giving out the police hotline number for anyone who might have information on her whereabouts. Well Lima, I'm pleased to inform you this morning that Santana Lopez returned safe and sound two nights ago and she's recovering at home."

"What the hell?" My eyes bugged out of my head. "How do they even know that?"

I had explicitly instructed Mercedes and Sam not to tell anyone I was back yet. It's not that I didn't want anyone to know. I just knew they wouldn't be able to restrain themselves from hunting me down and smothering me with attention that I didn't want or need. Just the thought of it was overwhelming.

"That's fantastic!" Mo's sidekick, Radio Randy, said. "That is just great news! Where did you hear this, Mo? I hadn't heard anything about it."

"Actually, I got a phone call last night from-"

Brittany's hand shot and she punched the power button on the radio. Literally punched it with her fist. The car instantly filled with silence. Her eyes were wide and her face was tomato red.

"Um…" I wasn't sure how to react to her reaction. "You alright?"

"I don't think we should listen to the radio right now," she said, eyes still wide. "Or anymore today."

"Ok."

"Maybe not even tomorrow. Or ever again."

"Ok, we don't have to."

She scooted back in her seat, muttering under her breath. She reached into the console between the seats, blindly chose a disc from her large CD case, and popped it into the CD player.

When the music started playing, her shoulders dropped and the blush finally faded from her face. It was the most relaxed she'd looked all day.

I recognized the singer and the song seemed vaguely familiar. "Otis Redding?" I asked.

"You know him?" she asked, smiling.

I shrugged. "I live with Mercedes. She'd beat me up if I didn't."

"Actually, this is her CD. She let me borrow it because my dad scratched mine."

"I didn't take you for much of a Motown fan," I said.

"Oh yeah, it's all we listened to when I was growing up." She grinned mischievously as if she were sharing some kind of secret. "Best music in the world."

We listened to Otis as we drove and I tried to wrap my head around the idea that Brittany and Mercedes were hanging out and letting each other borrow CDs. Except for the vigil (which I had to keep reminding myself not to mention), I hadn't seen any interaction between them besides the occasional "hey, how are you" when I was bartending.

_After the vigil (that I certainly did not attend), Brittany's roommate did say that they were spending a lot of time together… I need to ask Mercedes about this._

We didn't speak as we drove out of West Lima, but when we reached the downtown area, Brittany broke the silence.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Santana."

"Hey, I thought we settled that," I said, turning toward her. "Gay man in a purple suit, remember?"

"No, no, not for that," she said quietly. "For… the other thing. This morning. In the bedroom?"

"Oh. That."

Her cheeks were tinged with pink. "I shouldn't have done that. It was really inappropriate."

"It's okay," I said. "I'm definitely not upset."

She relaxed and breathed out a sigh of relief. "Oh, ok. Good. I would hate for things to get weird because of that, you know?"

"Don't even worry about it," I said.

_In fact, if you ever get the urge to do any other inappropriate things to me, feel free._

I smirked inwardly until I realized that "other inappropriate things" might literally kill me.

The courthouse and police station were directly across the street from each other and the mayor's office was conveniently located a few blocks away. We parked the car near the mayor's office and I quickly jumped out of the car so that no one would associate me with it.

As we approached the building, Brittany stopped dead in her tracks.

"What's wrong?" I asked, following her gaze.

A white Toyota Prius sat parked near the police station. The word "bitch" was written across it in red spray paint.

"They got Quinn's car again." Her voice was quaking with a quiet rage. "But she really shouldn't have parked here."

"Gee whiz, that sucks," I said, internally laughing my ass off at Quinn's misfortune. "Well at least we're at the police station. She can go report it."

"The police are the ones doing it," she sighed. "Ever since that article about Finntastic came out, they've been messing with us."

"Well, you can't just let them get away with it," I said incredulously.

She shrugged. "They're the cops. Who are we gonna call? I tried the Ghostbusters, but they said Lima is out of their jurisdiction."

When I first met Brittany, I could never tell when she was joking. But if you look very closely, you can see that she presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows ever so slightly to keep from grinning. It's a very small movement, one that only a creepy stalker like myself would pick up on, but it's there.

"If the cops are messing with you, maybe you shouldn't come inside with me. You can stay in the car," I offered. "I'll be fine."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I really want to do this. They can't keep running us out of downtown. We have every right to be here. Maybe if they were better cops, we would write nicer things about them in the paper."

She stuck her chin out defiantly and as hard as I tried, I couldn't keep my dorky, dopey smile from escaping and spreading across my face. She was so cute.

_You're such a sap, Lopez._

She took my hand and pulled me along behind her, speed walking the last half a block and flinging the doors of the police station open.

* * *

><p>Sometimes, you feel like everyone is staring at you, but you know in the back of your mind that it's just your imagination.<p>

This was not one of those times.

Every cop turned to look when we walked in and every single one of them was glaring at us.

Well, not us. They were glaring at Brittany.

She slowed her walk as we entered, shrinking under their stares and cautiously looking around her as if one of the cops was going to pull a gun on us just for stepping inside their hallowed space.

"It's okay, B," I said quietly. "I'm right here."

I wasn't sure where the nickname came from, or why I thought my presence would be of any comfort to her, but it must've been what she needed to hear because she slowly smiled and nodded. I motioned for her to take a seat on the bench in the waiting area.

Two officers stood behind the front desk, staring Brittany down as I approached.

Actually, only one of them was staring us down. The other one was standing slightly farther back, letting his eyes roam up and down his buddy's ass.

_Are you still considered "in the closet" if you leave the door wide open?_

When I got to the counter, I stood there for a full thirty seconds without either of them sparing me a glance. Their nametags said "Adams" and "Karofsky." I didn't know them, but I already hated them because of their shitty customer service skills.

I slammed both my palms on the counter, breaking everyone's trance.

"Riggs! Murtaugh! How are we doing today?"

They both looked at me, not amused.

"I've got this one, Azimio," Karofsky told his partner. Azimio gave me a dirty look before walking back to his desk. Karofsky crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow. "Can I help you with something?"

"Santana Lopez," I said, pointing at myself. "Former missing person."

"Is that so?" he asked smugly. "Can I see some identification?"

"Well, the people who kidnapped me kinda stole all of my stuff," I said. "I haven't had a chance to get a new license."

"If you don't have any identification, how am I supposed to confirm that you are who you say you are?" he asked, looking at me as if it were somehow my fault.

I didn't like his attitude.

"I don't know, Lieutenant Dangle. You're the one who works here, so these are the kinds of things you should probably know. I would imagine that stuff like this happens all the time, so you were either sick the day they explained it or," I jerked my thumb at Azimio's back, "you were mesmerized by Carl Winslow's ass over there and didn't pay enough attention."

Karfosky's face dropped and turned bright red.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He looked around to see if anyone had heard me.

I leaned over the desk and beckoned for him to come closer. "You really need to be more careful with your leering. You were eye-fucking him so hard, I'm surprised he's not limping."

"I wasn't!" he hissed. "I was just… he lost weight, okay? I was going to tell him he should get his pants taken in. You know, so he doesn't break the uniform regulations."

"Like that's any less gay."

He pounded the desk with his fist. "I'm not gay," he whispered menacingly.

I held up my hands. "Hey, not interested in your private life. I just want to make my statement and go home. So you can forget this whole ID business and we can get this done or I can stand here longer and keep talking to you about the giant rainbow-colored elephant in the room. Your choice."

"Fine," he muttered, picking up a clipboard and slamming stuff around on the desk. He sighed and shook his head. "I have to find an open room. Take a seat on the bench and I'll be right back."

I walked back to the bench and plopped down next to Brittany, who was staring at her shoes.

"See? They're not so scary when you know what buttons to push," I whispered to her quietly, resting my hand on her knee. She nodded and leaned against me, clasping her hands together and pressing them against the back of mine. Pride bubbled up in my chest as she took comfort in my touch.

_So this is what being awesome feels like._

Brittany's phone vibrated in her purse. She used one hand to check it, leaving her other hand lying against mine. She turned the screen toward me so that I could read her newest text message.

_Quinn: This is so boring._

"Told ya," she smirked, tossing her phone back in her bag. "They're about to show some of the press conference on the news." She pointed to the TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner.

"We now bring you live to the press conference where prosecuting attorney Sebastian Smythe is discussing yesterday's verdict."

The camera zoomed in and out of focus before finally landing on a weasely looking guy in an expensive suit. Some reporter was in the middle of asking a question. Sebastian nodded and leaned toward the microphone.

"I think this case was open and shut from the beginning. We had solid evidence and with the help of the Lima Police Department, we were able to put the pieces together about what happened the night Burt Hummel was killed. Mr. Bamboo had no alibi, he had nothing to back up his story. He claims he made purchases at a convenience store in West Lima, but the security cameras at that store are broken, so there's no way to verify that claim. He couldn't explain why his fingerprints were on the murder weapon or why witnesses placed him at the crime scene. The mountain of evidence against him was just staggering."

While Sebastian was talking, the TV news people decided to play some old clips that they shot during the trial. And that's when I got my first glimpse of Howard Bamboo.

Howard Bamboo was a pudgy little man in a cheap suit. He shuffled his feet like a penguin on a chain gang when he walked in and out of the courthouse, and his hair was always plastered to his forehead with his own sweat. He shrunk down in his seat on the witness stand, trying to make himself smaller, like he wanted to disappear.

He looked afraid to be in the courtroom. Hell, he looked afraid to be _alive_.

"_That's_ the guy?" I blurted out. Brittany shushed me as several cops turned to see what the noise was about. When they went back to their business, I turned to her.

"This is a joke right?" I whispered, seriously confused. "This guy doesn't look like he could kill time, let alone a cop."

"I know," Brittany agreed. "I couldn't believe it either. He looks like a big, sad Beanie Baby." She leaned in close to whisper in my ear. "Some of the pictures they showed during the trial were pretty gross. I guess he had one of those guns they use to shoot down planes. It cut the cop's body in _half_."

I shuddered at the image. "I'm not the best judge of character, but I just can't see this guy doing something like that."

"The news said he used to be a big time drug dealer," she pointed out. "I guess he's not as innocent as he looks. But he does look pretty innocent. Maybe they'll send him to a jail for people who look like stuffed animals."

"For his sake, I sure hope so. If he goes to real jail, they're going to rip his stuffing out."

Another reporter walked up to the microphone. "This question is for you, Mr. Hummel. How does it feel knowing that justice has finally been served for your father?"

The camera panned slightly to the left and I froze. Sitting there next to Sebastian, wearing a light purple knit sweater and a matching knit cap, was Kurt. Next to him was Blaine, who was giving him an encouraging smile.

"It feels incredible," Kurt answered. His voice was flat and bored, like he was only there because he had to be and didn't really care about any of it. He might as well have been reading off of cue cards. "I glad we finally put an end to this and that the right person has been brought to justice. My family and I can rest easy now. My father would be proud that we saw this through to the end."

His mouth curled downward like he was eating something extremely sour. Blaine, the perfect partner, nodded in agreement to his statements and patted his arm in support.

_They're in the courthouse._

My stomach flipped and I slid down on the bench. My breath caught in my throat.

_They're in the courthouse right across the street._

"Um, Santana?" I turned to see Brittany giving me a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

I blinked. "Yeah, sure. Why?"

She gently pried my fingers off of her knee. "You're kinda crushing my knee cap."

"Oh! I'm sorry!" I snatched my hand away.

"You look a little pale. And you're all sweaty." She took my hand in both of hers, ready to list off another weird thing my body was doing.

Before I could interrupt her and assure her I was okay, Karofsky walked up.

"Alright, the room is ready. You can make your statement now."

His eyes were glued to Brittany's hands clasping mine, gently rubbing circles into the back of it with her thumb. Any of his cop buddies walking by would've mistaken the look on his face for revulsion.

But I know jealousy when I see it.

* * *

><p>Brittany had to stay outside, but for some reason, Azimio joined us for our little session. He wasn't serving any real purpose besides being incredibly rude and annoying.<p>

"So then the basement wall collapsed and I was able to unchain myself," I said. "They kept the keys to the shackles in a shed out back, so I snuck in and unlocked them. It was a good thing everyone was out when it happened or else I wouldn't have been able to get out of there."

Azimio raised his hand. "I have a question."

I ignored him because I knew it was going to be a stupid and inappropriate question about my sexuality. "I walked through the woods for several days-"

"When did you figure out that you liked pussy?" He tried to keep a straight face, but he burst out laughing.

_He needs to take lessons from Brittany._

He nudged Karofsky, who let out a weak chuckle and turned slightly green. Karofsky got extremely uncomfortable every time Azimio brought up the beast that lurked in a woman's bloomers and I could tell he was really grossed out by the word "pussy." I didn't feel bad for him at all since he was the one who told Azimio I was a lesbian and brought him in here. He was just going to have to deal with the consequences.

I'd ignored Azimio's previous questions because I really just wanted to get out of there, but I just couldn't take the sound of his voice anymore.

"I had sex with a guy that, oddly enough, looked exactly like you. And wouldn't you know it, I couldn't stomach the thought of being intimate with a man ever again."

"Psh, whatever." He nudged Karofsky again for support. "You wish you were hot enough to ride this ride. I wouldn't touch you with Karofsky's dick."

"Well you _couldn't_ touch me with yours. Judging by the size and shape of your beer gut, I doubt you'd be able to find it. Someone should file a Missing Persons report. For your penis."

Azimio leaned across the table, probably ready to punch me in the face, but the door swung open and the police chief, Ken Tanaka, stuck his head in.

"Adams, front and center!"

Tanaka looked even worse in real life than he did on TV. His face was worn and lined like an old baseball glove and his mouth was fixed into a permanent scowl. He was one of those guys who looked like he ate nails for breakfast.

Azimio jumped out of his chair and immediately followed Tanaka out of the room. Karofsky slumped down in his seat.

"Way to go, Kojak," I hissed. "You just had to go gossip with your little girlfriend about how you found a real, live lady-gay and now both of us have to sit here and listen to him talk about pussy."

He flinched at the word and I kicked his chair.

"Oh grow up!" I reached across the desk and snatched his pen from him. "Just let me write the damn thing. We'll be done in ten minutes, we can close the Missing Persons case, and you can go back to whatever it is you do here at the frat house."

"Fine, whatever," he muttered, shoving his legal pad at me and standing up from his chair. He turned around and headed for the door.

"Oh! Hey, Ponch?" I called.

He stopped without turning around.

"Pussy! Pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy-"

Karofsky slapped his hands over his ears and ran to the door, singing "I can't hear you!" as he went. He slammed it shut behind him.

As I predicted, it took me about ten minutes to finish telling my mostly false tale of misery and woe. I wanted to read over it a few times to make sure everything was correct, but I could barely get through the first paragraph of Karofsky's chicken scratch handwriting. If I hadn't been in the room the entire time, I would've thought he'd written the whole thing with his feet.

_What language is this? Wingdings?_

The perfectionist in me couldn't let it go. I angrily ripped off the top page and spent another ten minutes rewriting the entire thing, using legible handwriting that could be read by actual human beings. I was tempted to write the whole thing in Spanish just to piss him off, but then I thought of a better idea. After I finished, I walked to the trashcan by the door to toss the illegible copy, but it was full to the brim.

The small plastic wastebin was full of cans of red spray paint and stained paper napkins. I almost laughed out loud.

_Lazy idiots._

That's when I heard angry voices in the hall. I poked my head to see what was going on.

"You have no right to vandalize my property!"

"I'd like to see you try and prove that my guys had something to do with this. If you can't, then you need to back the fuck down!"

"This is unbelievable! This is an egregious abuse of power!"

In the hallway, a red-faced Quinn Fabray was standing on her tip toes, spitting venom at Ken Tanaka and practically foaming at the mouth. Brittany was behind her, holding her back as she tried to get in the police chief's face. Karofsky and Azimio were standing behind Tanaka, smirking at the display. Correction: Azimio was smirking at the display. Karofsky was looking at Azimio's ass again.

_Really? Did we not just have a conversation about this?_

"You better watch your ass, Fabray," Tanaka growled menacingly. "We've been nice to you so far, but don't expect that to last. And you tell that Shelby Cochran I'm giving her one more chance to do this the right way. She's got 24 hours to get all of her ducks in a row and get her lackeys under control. If I see one more negative article about my department in the Lima Times, we'll have to handle this the old fashioned way."

"Are you threatening me?" Quinn asked incredulously. "Are you seriously threatening me in the middle of the fucking _police_ station?"

"Believe me, girly, it's not a threat." He leaned forward, briefly dropping his mask of smugness and revealing something quite sinister underneath. "It's a fucking guarantee."

Now, I couldn't care less about the cops blasé attitude about my disappearance. Even if they had really tried to look for me, it's not like they would have found me in Alaska or Canada anyway. But now Ken Tanaka was threatening Quinn and this Shelby person, which meant he was also threatening Brittany.

And that just wasn't cool with me at all.

I leaned back into the room and grabbed the trashcan before quickly striding down the hall and squeezing into the space between Tanaka and Quinn.

"Chief Wiggum," I said, flashing a toothy, shark-like smile. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with this young woman and I'd like to extend my services."

"Who the hell are you?" Tanaka snapped.

"No one special," I said. "Just a red-blooded patriotic American like yourself, waiting in the wings to help out a citizen in need. And I believe I've heard a need expressed." I pulled the trashcan from behind my back and shook it, making the cans clink against each other loudly. Tanaka lunged for it, as I expected, but I shoved it backwards into Quinn's stomach.

"Where did you get that?" he hissed, hands itching to reach around and grab the basket. The hallway led into the main lobby, which was full of people who were tending to whatever random business they had at the police station. The cops might have been bold enough to tag Quinn's car in broad daylight, but physically assaulting her less than 20 feet from a room full of potential witnesses? They weren't that dumb.

But they were dumb enough to leave evidence of their crimes lying around, and for that I was grateful.

"I found it! You said you needed proof that someone vandalized Ms. Fabray's private property, and this looks like a good place to start!" I clapped my hands together excitedly. "Maybe we should lift some prints off of these cans, see where that leads, right?"

Karofsky and Azimio visibly reacted to the suggestion and Tanaka sent them a disbelieving glare. The whole exchange gave me the distinct impression that somebody forgot to wear gloves when they were out making art on Quinn's Prius.

"Or maybe…" I said, tapping my finger against my temple. "Maybe I better hold onto this. As much as I admire the hard working men and women of the Lima PD, something in my gut is telling me that I can't trust you with this trashcan."

"Give me that trashcan," Tanaka growled.

"Afraid I can't do that. Something could happen to it."

"Give. Me. That. Trashcan." Tanaka's face was turning red.

"Why do you want it?" I asked innocently.

"Because… because…" he spluttered, looking for a reason. "Because that trashcan is government property! You can't remove it from this building!"

_Jackpot._

I raised my eyebrow. "I never said where I found it. Are you saying this is yours?"

His face fell. He knew he fucked up.

"Are you saying this is your trashcan, filled with evidence of illegal hijinks and general tomfoolery?" I shook my head sadly, feigning disappointment. "Well, that… that just wouldn't look very good, now would it, Sheriff Woody?"

He remained silent, scowling deeply and trying to look intimidating.

I smiled and stood up straight. "Now, as I was saying, I'm gonna take this trashcan with me. I'm gonna put it somewhere nice and safe, so that if anybody else around here has a problem with taggers, I'll have all of_ my_ ducks in a row. Think of it as an insurance policy."

I turned to Brittany and Quinn, who looked positively stunned.

"Ladies, after you," I said, sweeping my arm toward the main lobby. They slowly walked toward the end of the hall, glancing uncertainly back at me before entering the main lobby.

I grinned at Ken Tanaka, who curled his lip up in disgust. "Have a nice day, Chief Quimby."

I nodded at Azimio and Karofsky. "Cagney. Lacey."

As I passed by Karofsky, I slapped the legal pad onto his chest. "I fixed it for you. Try not writing in hieroglyphics next time."

With that, I confidently strode away, exiting the dark hallway into the adequately lit waiting room.

"Let's get out of here," I whispered to Brittany and Quinn, picking up speed and rushing toward the double doors at the entrance. As badly as I wanted to see Karofsky's face when he realized that I'd written the word "pussy" at random intervals all throughout the report, I figured I should quit while I was ahead.

We stepped out of the Lima Police Department and into the bright, welcoming sunshine.

* * *

><p>"That was incredible!" Brittany blurted out as we stood by Quinn's car. Quinn tossed her laptop and her purse onto the backseat of her Prius and slammed the door. She whirled on me, shoving the trashcan into my arms.<p>

"Yeah, incredibly stupid," she sneered. "All you did was put your name on the top of Tanaka's shit list. Congrats."

_Well, she certainly is a ray of sunshine._

I shrugged. "I've dealt with some pretty grimy shit this month. So if Tanaka wants to send his elite squad of Pillsbury Doughpigs after me, I say bring it. I can handle them."

Brittany glared at Quinn, who flushed and looked away. I didn't bring up my disappearance to make anyone feel bad. I was just stating facts.

_They have no idea what happened to you. They're probably imagining the worst case scenarios. You need to stop talking about this so nonchalantly. It upsets people._

It was weird that Quinn didn't feel bad about it when she thought I was dead (not that I would know that, because I definitely wasn't at the vigil). Somehow, me being alive probably made everything seem real to her.

"So," I said trying to change the subject, "what's next on the agenda?"

Quinn answered, even though I wasn't talking to her. "I'm not going back to the office," she said, looking down at her car and frowning at the red spray paint. "I'm not driving around the city like this. I have to take my car to the shop. Again."

"Well, you did park right in front of the pig pen," Brittany pointed out. "Not your best idea."

"I didn't have time to circle the block for an hour," Quinn muttered, rubbing her temples. "This wasn't even supposed to be my story. Kim called in sick and Shelby's not answering her freaking phone so somebody had to come down here."

"I'll give you the number to the place where I sent my car to get painted," Brittany said, pulling out her phone. "I've been there so many times in the past two weeks because of Tanaka. They said my next paint job is on the house, so you can have my freebie."

For the first time ever, Quinn actually smiled. "Thanks, Britt. I appreciate it."

"No problem. Just tell them B-Money sent you."

"What color did you pick this time?" Quinn asked.

"I didn't pick a color, I just told them to pimp my ride," Brittany said, shrugging. "I dropped it off yesterday and I should be getting it back tomorrow. They're super fast."

"Wait a second," I said, putting my hand up. "You mean that acid trip on wheels that we drove over here isn't yours?"

Brittany snorted. "God no, that's Rachel's car. I borrow it to go downtown because I know nobody would waste good spray paint on it. And I think the bright colors scare the cops away."

"That's too bad. Vandalism could only help that situation. We should run back inside and ask Tanaka if we can get some free work done."

"Rachel always says there's oil leaking from the engine, but I'm pretty sure that the car is crying. It's embarrassed to go out in public looking like that."

"I would be too. That poor, poor Volkswagen. It doesn't deserve this."

"It's being abused by its owner. There should be a hotline we can call about this."

"People for the Ethical Treatment of Automobiles."

"Oh! Maybe they'll release it into the wild!"

"Maybe they'll take Rachel to jail!"

"Ok, can you guys like, stop please?" Quinn glared at the both of us. Brittany pulled an imaginary zipper across her lips, which caused us both to burst into a fit of giggles.

"I feel like I'm babysitting children," Quinn muttered.

Brittany and I grinned at each other, but my mood instantly deflated when I realized that if Rachel was the true owner of Herbie the Love Bug's gay cousin, she was also the owner of the all the happy pride flags on the dashboard.

_What a buzzkill._

A piercing shriek from nearby nearly shattered my eardrums, interrupting my mental mourning of Brittany's lesbianism.

"ALEXANDER!"

I whipped around, looking for the source of the scream.

A middle-aged woman holding a small infant was standing on the sidewalk near an ice cream vendor's cart, screaming as a little boy ran into the intersection. He was chasing a shiny, blue balloon.

If he'd darted out a few seconds earlier, the cars would've had enough time to see him and slow down. But he ran out just as the light turned green and the last pedestrians were exiting the crosswalk. Once they saw him, there was no way they'd have enough time to brake and avoid him. His mother looked on in horror, knowing there was no way she could save him without endangering the baby she was holding.

The little boy grabbed the balloon and stood in middle of the intersection, looking quite pleased with himself for recovering his lost possession, not paying much attention to the eighteen-wheeler that was barreling down on him.

Everybody looked. Some people even shouted. _Nobody_ moved.

_Don't. Don't you fucking dare._

By the time I realized I was moving, I was already charging up, running full speed down the sidewalk.

* * *

><p>There are two kinds of super speed: the kind that is perceptible to the human eye and the kind that isn't.<p>

_Three lane one-way street._

I have the former. Ben has the latter. Ben's movements are too fast to process, so it appears as if he can teleport. My movements are slow enough that people can see me as I progress, but it's way, way too fast to be normal. I could smoke Olympic gold medalists in a race without breaking a sweat.

_Taxi in the far lane. Mack truck in the middle lane. SUV in the last lane._

A common misconception about super speed is that it somehow makes you smarter, since you're able to have more thoughts than a normal human being in the same amount of time. That's false. If I can think ten times as fast as you, but all I'm thinking about is whether or not the light in the refrigerator turns off when you close the door, I'm never going to have any Einstein-level revelations.

_Kid is roughly ten feet from the crosswalk. Intersection is tiny. Which way?_

The kid stood frozen in the street, staring at the monster Mack truck like a deer in headlights.

_Grab the kid, jump backward toward the mom, get smacked by the SUV. Grab the kid, jump forward, get smacked by the taxi. Grab the kid, jump forward, jump over the taxi… land on the car behind the taxi, get smacked. Grab the kid, slide across the SUV… nope, the driver's gonna freak out and crash. Great._

I pushed hard off of the curb, propelling myself toward the middle of the intersection.

_Grab the kid, hop over the truck, roll off the back… can I even hop over the truck? That's like a fifteen foot vertical jump_.

Unfortunately, I couldn't think fast enough. By the time I darted out in front of the SUV, I still didn't have a satisfactory solution to our very pressing problem. The only thing that I could accomplish was getting us both turned into road pizza.

It was like playing Frogger in three dimensions.

_Left, Right, Right, Up, Left, Up. No._

From my peripheral vision, I noticed a few things happening. The people on the sides of the road were now screaming because they were pretty sure two people were gonna get mowed down in the street and it was too close to lunch for something like that to be happening. The truck driver was shouting, blowing his horn, slamming on the break. Of course, it was too late for all that, but it was a nice gesture.

_Left, Up, Right, Left, Left. No._

_Right, Left, Up, Left. No._

_Left, Right, Left. No._

_Right, Up. No._

_Wait._

The answer hit me just as I reached the kid, wrapping an arm around his waist and yanking him up from the ground.

_Down._

There wasn't any time to check and make sure that there was enough room under the truck. It didn't matter. All options were equally bad.

I dropped straight backwards, tucking the back of the kid's head into my armpit to cushion the blow. My head smacked into the asphalt, but I tightened up every single muscle in my body to keep myself from bouncing. All I could do now is hope that the car behind the truck stopped before it reached us.

The truck, breaks squealing, slid over us and the dark underside of the truck covered us, leaving inches between our faces and sudden death by decapitation. I closed my mouth and eyes and slid my hand over the kid's face so that we wouldn't breathe in any gunk or be blinded by random falling debris. The roar of the protesting machinery was even louder down there, and the smell of gas and burning rubber was strong.

The bottom of the truck went flashing by and suddenly, the bright blue sky filled our vision once again. I didn't dare raise my head or even open my eyes to see if another car was coming. The sound of squealing brakes was getting louder and louder. I simply raised my leg, charged up and ready to go, hoping against hope that there was enough strength in my calf to stop a speeding car.

My foot moved slightly as something bumped against it.

I cracked one eye open and saw that my foot was now resting against the bumper of a midsized sedan, which managed to stop completely right before it reached us.

My overworked body, realizing that the immediate danger was over, instantly deflated and powered down. I turned my head, meeting the frightened eyes of the little boy tucked into my side.

"That was a close one, wasn't it?" I asked, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "But I think we'll be alright now, okay buddy?"

The kid stared at me for a second before bursting into tears.

"I WANT MY BALLOON!" he screamed into my face.

_Ungrateful snot._

The cars around us were blocking our view of the sidewalk onlookers. Apparently some of the cars had gotten into fender benders because of all the brake slamming, so the only people in the street were drivers collecting insurance information.

The kid's mother appeared, probably fearing the worst. When she saw us alive and well, she pulled her son up from the ground and dropped to her knees, hugging him and the little baby in her arms at the same time and sobbing all over them.

I slowly sat up and groaned. My muscles were still locked up and it was painful to move. I looked over as a pair of shoes entered my personal space. Brittany was standing above me, smiling from ear to ear. She got down on her knees next to me and threw her arms around my neck.

"You're alive," she whispered softly, as if she didn't believe it.

I spread my arms and looked around, showing her all the cars that tried to end my life. "So it would seem."

She pulled me in tighter, resting her head against mine. I slowly put my arms around her and accepted the hug. My muscles relaxed and my heart rate slowed as the adrenaline rush slowly faded away.

"You're really freaking amazing, do you know that?" she said, laughing softly into my ear.

"It's what anybody would've done," I said.

She pulled back, shaking her head. "But nobody did, Santana. Only you. You did something. You saved that little boy. And that is amazing. _You_ are amazing."

Her words made feel all fuzzy and warm inside, like my organs were made out of Snuggie fabric.

She helped me up off the ground but kept her hand in mine, and started to lead me out of the intersection.

The mother of the little boy stood up. "Ma'am, please! Wait!"

We stopped as she approached us. She grabbed my shoulder with her free hand. "Thank you so, so much for saving my son. I don't know what I would've done. Thank you, thank you, thank you. How can I- I mean, I don't have any cash on me, but-"

"Don't worry about it, ma'am," I said. "Just keep him out of the street from now on. Tie his balloons to his wrist. And maybe buy one of those little kiddie leashes. Or a stroller."

I pointed at the little boy, who was hiding behind his mother's leg.

"Stay out of the street," I said sternly. "Look both ways before you cross. Say no to drugs. Knowledge is power."

He nodded fervently, permanently committing every bit of my profound wisdom to memory. At least until the next shiny thing bounced in front of him and invalidated everything I said.

_Is it weird that we're probably both wearing Spongebob undies right now?_

Brittany tugged me back toward the sidewalk and the Random family followed closely behind us. The Mack truck had stopped right before the crosswalk. There were tons of people on both sides of the street, chattering idly and waiting to learn the fate of the balloon chasing boy and the stupid woman who tried to help him. Right before we reached the edge of the wall of cars and stepped into the view of the crowd, Brittany dropped my hand.

I gave her a questioning look and she smiled apologetically in response.

_I guess she can mack all over your face but she can't hold your hand in public. Ouch. Tough break, kid._

As we stepped into the crosswalk with the kid's family, the crowd erupted in raucous applause and cheers.

"Oh jeez," I muttered. I picked up my pace and hurried down the street, ignoring everyone who tried to flag me down or get my attention.

But even in the busy blur of happy faces, a handful of people stood out to me.

Ken Tanaka, Karofsky, and Azimio stood by the sidewalk, glaring at me, as police officers poured into the street to clear the traffic and clean up the accidents.

Quinn leaned against her bitchmobile. She was holding the trashcan full of spray paint cans, her eyes darting suspiciously between Brittany's guilty, red face and me.

And on the courthouse side of the street, dressed in all the purple he could manage to fit in one outfit, Kurt stood smiling with his hand clasped in Blaine's. He locked eyes with me and his grin widened until it took up his entire face (not unlike the Grinch). He spoke to Blaine without breaking eye contact with me, and even from where I was standing, I could tell what he said.

"She's alive."

* * *

><p><strong>Fictional Cop Reference Guide:<br>**Riggs, Murtaugh: Lethal Weapon  
>Lt. Dangle: Reno 911!<br>Carl Winslow: Family Matters  
>Kojak: Kojak<br>Ponch: CHiPs  
>Chief Wiggum: The Simpsons<br>Sheriff Woody: Toy Story  
>Chief Quimby: Inspector Gadget<br>Cagney, Lacey: Cagney and Lacey

**A/N:** Well hello, Kurt!

So: Porcelain returns, Howard Bamboo is going to jail without passing go and collecting $200, Tanaka and Karzimio (is that real? Do people ship that?) are douchenozzles , Britt Britt has some issues, Alexander needs a leash, and Quinn is physically incapable of being happy.

Chopping chapters again :/ These things get out of control pretty quickly and I'd rather update now instead of waiting until next week. I have significantly less writing time these days :(

I just remembered that there's an episode where Spongebob rips his pants repeatedly and sings a song about it at the end XD

As always, feedback is welcome :)

Enjoy your week!  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	8. First Fridays

**A/N:** You all are lovely, awesome, and wonderful.

Just to refresh your memory: a long time ago, Kurt said Santana looked like the Crocodile Hunter and Santana said Kurt looked like a pimp from the 70s and should change his name to Sweet Daddy.

Disclaimer: Fox/RIB owns Glee. I don't. I also don't own "Seasons of Love."

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8: First Fridays<strong>

Life wasn't going as planned.

After a month of not working, I was broke and behind on bills. My car crapped out on me, my insurance company refused to pay for my rental, and despite Mercedes's insistence, I wasn't going to let her give me any money. She didn't make much at her internship and she needed all of her DJ money to plan her wedding. My disappearance had thrown the entire wedding off track and I couldn't help but feel guilty about the whole thing.

To add to my growing list of problems, Kurt had been leaving creepy little messages all over the place for me to find ever since I saw him at the courthouse a week earlier. Mercedes found one on her car after work one day. All it said was "Peek-a-boo! I see you!" and I had to laugh and pretend that I'd left it there as a joke. Meanwhile, I died a little inside.

I finally had to swallow my pride and call up Team McKinley, but in a rare moment of unpredictability, Ben brushed me off.

"We've got the situation under control," he said. "Just ignore him. We're handling it."

Every time I called, he said the exact same thing. It made me want to throw my phone against the wall, but I didn't have enough money to get a new one.

It was already shaping up to be a shitty day. As soon as I woke up, the junkyard guy called and told me that since my car was older than Jesus's grandparents, he didn't want it and wouldn't give me any money for the parts. The perfect way to start my day.

I was purposely ignoring the fact that it was the first Friday of the month, a day that comes with its own unique and terrible brand of bullshit.

I got to work an hour late because I was arguing with the junkyard guy. Lauren must have been on some Zen-Yoga-Inner Peace type shit because she didn't even yell at me when I ran by her and hopped in my truck. I think she was afraid I'd have some kind of nervous breakdown. I hadn't exactly been the poster child for mental stability. She didn't even want to let me come back to work so quickly, insisting that I should take some time to rest, but bills needed to be paid.

I pulled up to my first stop. It was a one of those huge buildings with a bunch of different offices inside, and since the central lobby seemed to be undergoing construction, I'd have to take the packages all the way up.

I parked the truck and got in the back, reaching for the packages. A bright yellow sticky note caught my eye.

_Great, my fairy godmother must have paid me a visit last night._

Kurt had never actually gone inside my truck before and it creeped me out. I ripped the note off the wall and read the message, written in loopy, purple handwriting.

_My dearest Crocodile Hunter,  
>You know what I want.<br>We can end all of this foolishness if you just cooperate.  
>-Sweet Daddy<em>

"Asshole," I muttered under my breath. I crumpled the sticky note in my fist, stuffed the packages under my arm, and hopped out of the truck. Despite my hatred of litter, I tossed the note into the gutter and stomped on it until I was satisfied that it was dead.

_I don't know what you want, but I'd gladly give it to you if it would make you go the hell away._

I took the elevator to the fifteenth floor, still caught in my own angry fog. When I stepped out of the elevator into a cube farm, I pulled the first box out and cleared my throat so that I could do my signature Delivery Yell.

"Package for Lucille Q. F… uck."

Suddenly, I was alert and wide awake, hoping against hope that I hadn't just wandered into The Lima Times and that the Q in Lucille Q. Fabray stood for anything but Quinn.

But the huge hanging banner that read "Welcome to the new offices of The Lima Times!" told me that I had made a very, very big mistake.

Before I could react, Quinn stepped out of the cubicle nearest to me, sipping from a coffee mug. She looked around for a second, trying to figure out where the voice had come from. When she recognized me, her eyes widened in shock and her mouth dropped open.

She almost spilled coffee all over herself when she started laughing.

My face turned bright red and I looked away as she doubled over, setting her coffee mug on her desk and clutching her stomach.

"Oh my god!" she howled, gesturing at my uniform. "This… this is rich. This is just _perfect_."

Some people poked their heads out of their cubes to see what all the noise was. Quinn took a second to catch her breath before walking up to me.

"You have a package for me?" she asked, still fighting the giggles. I frowned and whipped out my clipboard, shoving it at her as I tried to contain the anger and embarrassment coursing through my veins.

"Sign here please," I mumbled, hoping to get through this with all the professionalism I could muster.

_Of all the offices, in all the towns, in all the world, I walk into hers. Just great._

She whipped the pen out with a flourish and signed the electronic clipboard with a huge grin. She even drew a smiley face after her name.

"Carry it to my desk for me?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. I could've stabbed her in the eye. I carried the boxes over to her cubicle and dumped them unceremoniously on her desk.

"They're your problem now. Make sure you get them to the right people." I turned on my heel to leave, but Quinn wasn't done yet.

"I'm _so_ sad Brittany couldn't be here to see this," Quinn called from behind me. "She's out working on a story, but I'm sure she would've loved to see you in this… this getup. No wonder you never told her about your day job."

After months and months of keeping this shameful secret from Brittany, Quinn was just gonna go and ruin everything.

I sighed and turned around. "You really don't have to mention this to her."

She looked me up and down, her eyes lighting up with excitement. I could almost hear the gears turning in her big, evil head. "You know what? You caught me in a good mood today. So I'm willing to strike a deal with you."

Looking back over her shoulder, she noticed that people were still watching our confrontation.

"Come with me," she said, walking towards the hallway. She still had my clipboard, so I didn't have any choice but to follow. She walked down the hall and ducked inside a small janitor's closet. I followed her inside and closed the door behind me.

Quinn stared at me for a moment before folding her arms over her chest and leaning against a shelf of cleaning products.

"Do you know how tired I am of hearing about you, Santana?"

I winced. My name sounded horrible coming out of her mouth. I had never heard her say it before and I never, ever wanted to hear her to say it again.

_I liked it better when she called me "the bartender."_

"I'm so tired," she continued, "of hearing how _nice_ you are and how _sweet_ you are and how blah, blah, blah you are. Do you know how crazy it drives me?"

"I can only imagine," I said, rolling my eyes. "Get to the point, Fabray. I have places to be."

She eyed my uniform again and laughed. "Clearly."

My face burned and I balled my hands into fists.

"I don't want to hear about you anymore," she said, smirking. "So I won't tell Brittany about any of this on the condition that you stay as far away from her as humanly possible from this moment forward."

"Are you serious?" I asked incredulously.

"As a heart attack," she said. "You don't call her, you don't text her, you don't write on Facebook wall, you don't tweet her. When she comes to the bar, you don't speak to her or look at her. Better yet, don't even think about her."

I could only blink in response.

Quinn frowned at my blank expression. "Should I say it again in Spanish?"

"You're fucking crazy, do you know that?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Why does it even matter to you if I talk to her? If you don't like me, fine, but Brittany's an adult. She doesn't need you to choose her friends."

Quinn barked out a laugh. "Brittany's a big girl, I know that. I don't cut her meat or tell her to eat her vegetables. But she doesn't always know what's best for her, and if I see her doing something that's not in her best interests, I'm going to act."

I raised an eyebrow. "And being friends with me isn't in her best interests?"

"Oh please," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. "Don't pretend like friendship is what you want out of this. I've seen the way you look at her. So spare me the friendzone bullshit."

I shrugged. "Brittany's a great girl and I'm not about to apologize to you for liking her. And if Brittany likes me back then-"

Quinn pushed off the shelf and got in my face.

"Brittany does _not_ like you back," she hissed. "She's not a fucking _dyke_."

And suddenly, it became nauseatingly clear what this whole thing was really about.

We stood in silence for a moment. Quinn's face was red and anger radiated off of her in waves. She rose up to her full height, using her two or three extra inches to try and intimidate me.

"Wow." I stared her down, not breaking eye contact. "All this time, I thought you were just a bitch to everyone, or that you just didn't like me. But it's the gay thing that bothers you."

"I _am_ a bitch to everyone and I really don't like you," she said, "but I couldn't care less about who you sleep with. You don't matter to me. But Brittany? She's not gay. So you can just forget about it."

"I hate to break it to you, Quinn," I sneered, "but you can't control Brittany's sexuality. If Brittany likes girls, then she likes girls. All the meddling and scheming in the world isn't going to change that."

"No, you're wrong." Quinn growled. "Brittany is not… _like you_. She's _not_. She does not like _girls_ and she certainly doesn't want to…" she grimaced in disgust, leaving the sentence unfinished. "I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to confuse her. But it's not going to work, so you can just drop this whole 'friendly neighborhood bartender' act and move on. Go find some diesel dyke to fuck and leave Brittany alone."

I didn't take kindly to Quinn Fabray of all people trying to tell me what I could and couldn't do. I wasn't about to take extra shit from her, especially not on the first Friday of the month.

"News flash: you don't control me, either," I spat. "I will talk to whoever I want, however I want, whenever I want. If I wanna talk to Brittany, I will. If I wanna call her, I'll do that too. I will IM, DM, PM, AM/FM her into next _week_. And I will _fuck_ whoever I want to _fuck_. There is _nothing_ you can do about it. So go wipe the sand out of your vagina and get a life because you're getting too involved in mine."

I snatched my clipboard from her, shaking my head.

"You know, you're a real class act, Fabray. You're such a miserable bitch that you can't even let your best friend be happy and be who she is. I don't know if Brittany is a _lesbian_, but if she is and she likes me, then I will do whatever it takes to make her happy. I don't need or want your permission."

Predictably, Quinn did a Karofsky-style flinch at the word "lesbian." I turned to the door, ready to leave this hot mess of a conversation.

"Really?" she laughed quietly. "You really think you could make Brittany happy?"

I stopped walking mid-stride and she walked up behind me.

"Tommy is about to graduate from med school at the top of his class," she said. "He's going to stop sowing his wild oats everywhere and he's going to want to settle down. He's going to get back together with Brittany and they're going to live in a giant McMansion in Beaumont with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. And you know what you're going to be doing? You're going to be begging for tips behind a bar and driving a delivery truck. You're going to be doing it for the rest of your life because you're just like every other piece of slime that slithers out of Lima Heights."

She gave me a patronizing pat on the shoulder. "You're a West Lima loser and you're always going to be a West Lima loser, Santana. You're never going to be good enough for Brittany, and the sooner you accept it, the better."

I flung the door open and stormed out, stomping down the hall toward the elevator with Quinn right on my heels. The elevator doors opened and a woman stepped out with her cellphone stuck to her ear. She was all business and no nonsense in her gray suit, brown hair pulled back in a tight, neat bun. I stopped in my tracks, recognizing her instantly. Quinn ran into my back.

"Quinn!" she shouted down the hall, "I need that Bamboo follow up article on my desk by the end of the day!"

"Sure, Shelby," Quinn said, her tone remarkably more friendly than it was a few seconds earlier. "I'm on it."

Shelby Cochran gave me a brief glance before entering the cube farm and yelling at more people. She didn't recognize me, but I didn't expect her to. She looked a lot different in the day time, when she wasn't dragging her battered boyfriend out of an alleyway, choking back tears and words of gratitude.

_I saved Brittany's boss from being mugged and murdered in an alley? Small world._

Quinn shoved past me and followed behind Shelby. She stopped short in the doorway and turned back to me.

"Stay away from her and I won't tell her anything. You have my word." There was something desperate in her eyes, something pleading for me to play along in this grand charade of hers.

Unfortunately for her, I hate charades. I also hate Pictionary.

"I don't want to stay away from her," I said. "So tell her whatever you want. Tell her I'm an ax murdering, gun-toting baby killer. Tell her I sell crack to kindergartners for a living."

I stepped into the elevator. "I'm not gonna be your bitch, Quinn. You don't run me."

And with that, the elevator doors closed, taking me far, far away from one problem and closer to a host of other problems. When I got to my truck, there were two things stuck under the windshield wiper: a parking ticket from Officer David Karofsky and a yellow sticky note with loopy purple handwriting on it.

_I'm not a patient man, Crocodile Hunter.  
>I always get what I want, so you might as well get with the program.<br>Don't make me come after you.  
>-Sweet Daddy<em>

I sighed and rested my head against my truck. My head was pounding and this was only my first stop of the day. I shoved the love notes from my favorite gays in my pocket and climbed behind the wheel of my truck.

* * *

><p>"Santana, can you hear me?"<p>

_I wouldn't do that if I were you five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes-_

It felt like I was underwater. Everything smelled like hair gel and Rent songs were playing in my head. My stomach was cramping and my legs were shaking. I was going to be sick.

"Santana, if you can hear me, just nod, okay?"

_-measure a year I wouldn't do that if I were you don't move if you move he's gonna be-_

I had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and I couldn't let go. All I had to do was stick the key in the ignition and drive away. That's all I had to do.

_-standing there with a gun how about love measure in love I wouldn't do that if I were-_

"Santana! If you don't answer me, I'm going to have to call an ambulance."

_-exclamation point smiley face I wouldn't do that if I were you really think you could make Brittany happy I wouldn't do that if I were you I wouldn't do that if I were-_

A pale, pudgy hand slipped over mine, prying it from the steering wheel. I snapped out of my trance. Blinking rapidly, I looked around.

"What-" I gasped, struggling to get air into my lungs. "What happ… what's going on?"

Lauren sighed, prying my other hand from the steering wheel and handing me a napkin to wipe my face. I was covered in sweat.

The truck was parked in front of the First National Bank of Lima. It must have been time for my daily freakout.

"Santana," Lauren said gently, "you're my best driver and I know you need to work, but we can't keep doing this."

I swallowed hard and looked down in my lap. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. I really thought I had it this time. At least I got out and got the packages today… I think."

Lauren shook her head slowly. "I got the packages. You didn't even get out of the truck. The bank manager called me. You've been sitting out here for an hour."

My body deflated and I let my head fall back against the seat. "I'm sorry, Lauren. I guess I just gotta keep working on it. I didn't think I'd be so affected by this."

"Is this where… it happened?" Lauren asked.

I nodded.

"I thought so," she said. "I tried to narrow it down after… after you didn't come back that day. I figured it was this stop or the one after it. Is that what you're thinking about when you come here? Are you afraid it's going to happen again?"

I nodded again.

"It's not going to happen again, Santana," she said firmly. "You don't have to worry about that."

_Easy for you to say. You're not being threatened and harassed via Post-It notes._

"They're going to catch those guys," she went on. "They're going to lock them up and throw away the key. Everybody talked to the cops and made statements, so with all that information, something's gonna crack the case, okay? And I'm sure whatever physical description you gave will be all over the news. Somebody will see those guys and call in. I know the bank's cameras weren't working that day so they've got no real pictures to go off of, but sketch artists are amazing these days."

I wanted to point out that the cops clearly didn't give a rat's ass about the case or they would've done something already, but something she said threw me off.

"The cameras weren't working?"

"Yeah. The cameras were screwed up here that day. Some electrical malfunction." She shrugged.

I closed my eyes tightly, struggling to figure out why that bothered me.

"But it's okay," Lauren said, mistaking my deep thought for another freakout. "They're gonna get 'em, but until then we're gonna have to make some changes."

"Like what?" I asked warily.

"For starters, I'm taking you off this route. I'm also cutting you down to three days a week."

I sat up straight and turned to face her. "What? You can't do that!"

"I can do that and I just did." For some reason, Lauren being strict and tough was way more comforting than Kumbaya-Heal the World Lauren.

"Come on, Lauren," I pleaded. "This has always been my route. And I need the money! I'm gonna get better. I just need some time."

"I'm running a business here, Santana. You're now running two hours behind schedule, you're late in the mornings, you're always on edge. You're in no condition to be working and you should be grateful that I'm letting you work at all."

"I am," I said honestly. "I really do appreciate what you're doing."

"Then thank me by getting better," she said. "It's perfectly normal for you to feel the way you feel, but it's not okay for you to sit on your ass and do nothing about it. Maybe you should think about talking to someone. A professional."

I nodded, even though I had no intention of going to a shrink.

_What am I gonna say? "Excuse me, doctor, I was kidnapped by a man in a Barney-skin coat and I fell into some green goop that made me magical. I need something to treat the resulting anxiety." You know what they're gonna prescribe me? A fucking straitjacket._

"I'll think about it."

"Good." Lauren patted my hand and stepped out of my truck. "I'm gonna give you a ride back. Simmons and Paulson are gonna come pick up your truck and finish your route."

I hopped down from the truck and got into Lauren's station wagon. When we got back to the Zizes lot, I changed out of my uniform, got into my rental car, and drove east.

* * *

><p>The first Friday of the month is always shitty.<p>

It's a day for tucking your dignity, pride, and self-respect away in a safe, secret place so that no one can get to them. Later, when the day is over, you can look at your reflection in the mirror and say "I did what I had to do."

Unbeknownst to Quinn Fabray, I actually did know people with mansions in Beaumont. Beaumont was the easternmost part of Lima where all of the disgustingly wealthy and influential people lived. It was a place where people probably swam in pools full of Jello, lit their cigars with flaming $100 bills, and fed expensive caviar and imported breast milk to their domesticated Pumas.

I pulled up to the Ramirez household and parked in the driveway next to a Bentley. My car seemed to shrink in order to make room for the other car's enormous presence. I hopped out, rang the doorbell, and waited.

Natalie answered, like always. Her eyes widened a bit in shock, but she quickly recovered and put on her bitch scowl.

"Oh, it's you," she said, but she didn't sound as sarcastic and bitter as she usually did. I think she was genuinely surprised to see me.

"Hey, Nat," I said cordially. I usually tried to be polite to Natalie even though she was incapable of reciprocating. After all, I might need a kidney someday. "Is Mom home?"

She rolled her eyes because we both knew the answer to that question.

_No, she's out. She's at the country club._

"No, she's out. She's at the country club."

"Is your dad here?"

_Yeah, he's here. He's in his office._

"Yeah, he's here. He's in his office."

Natalie let me inside and led me down the familiar halls of the Ramirez household. Everything was polished marble and crown molding and slick, smooth tile from the South of France. The living room looked like a museum for fancy furniture that no one was allowed to sit on. There was a giant family portrait above the fireplace. Nina, Robert, and Natalie Ramirez: the picture perfect family.

_Pardon me while I vomit._

Natalie must have just gotten home from cheerleading practice because she was still wearing her uniform. She was the captain of Carmel High's nationally ranked cheerleading squad and a lead vocalist in their nationally ranked show choir. She was the stereotypical popular rich bitch, probably what I would've been if my mother hadn't left me with my abuela.

"I didn't know you were back," Nat said over her shoulder, acting as if I'd been on a fucking pleasure cruise instead of missing. "Mom didn't say anything about it."

I shrugged. "I don't know if she knows."

She just shook her head, causing her high ponytail to swing wildly. "Whatever," she muttered.

It was an unspoken rule that nobody would tell my mother I'd been here. I came to this house once a month and I'd managed to avoid being in her physical presence for two years. If my mother didn't ask (and she never would), nobody was going to tell.

We stopped in front of the door to the study and Nat turned to face me. This was the point where she always looked like she was about to say something, but instead she pulled a bitchface and stormed up the stairs to her room.

_My ever-predictable half-sibling._

I knocked three times.

"Come in," a gruff voice called. I opened the door and stepped inside.

Dr. Robert Ramirez, world-renowned OB/GYN, humanitarian, best-selling author, father of the year, flavor of the month, student of the week, catch of the day, man of the hour, sat behind his desk, hunched over his laptop.

My mom used to tell me that I wasn't allowed to hate him because he saved babies all day. That worked for like, five minutes.

"Leave it on the desk," he said without looking up.

I stood there, not speaking or moving until he looked up. We both knew what that meant. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in front of him.

"Let me explain-" I started.

"Let me guess," he said, interrupting me. "Money's tight at the peanut factory or wherever it is that you're employed and they cut your hours. You don't have the money."

"Not exactly," I said, trying to control my tone. Getting snippy wouldn't help my case. "I got kidnapped and I couldn't work for a month. So no, I don't have the money."

He laughed. "And what exactly does that have to do with me? You always come in here with a sob story, as if I care about what happens in your personal life."

"There's no way I could've made a payment this month," I said. "Even you can understand that."

"I don't have to understand anything," he snapped. "What I understand is that you owe me money and you don't want to pay up."

"I didn't say that-"

"If you don't want to adhere to the terms of our agreement," he said, ignoring me, "I can always transfer your debt to a guy I know from the West End. When you don't pay him on time, he sends someone to break your legs. Or I could just have your ass thrown in jail. I'll let you pick."

I remained silent because it's usually the best option and he wasn't expecting a response anyway.

"You get a one-week extension. After that, I'm applying the late fee. Get out."

He looked back down at his laptop. I just stood there and sighed because I knew shit was about to hit the high-speed oscillating fan.

"What? Why are you still here?"

I looked up at the ceiling, wishing that I could be anywhere else in the world. "I didn't come here to tell you that I was missing a payment. I could've done that over the phone."

"Well, what then?" he snapped impatiently.

"I came here because… I need another loan."

Silence.

"Close the door."

I kicked the door closed with my foot. He stood up and rounded his desk, then sat on the edge of it.

"You came here to ask me for more _money_?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"My car crapped out on me and I need to get a new one so that I can work," I said, trying to explain. "Public transportation doesn't go out that far. I need to pay my roommate back for the rent I missed-"

"I. Don't. Care." Each word brought him a step closer to me. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"If I can't work, I can't pay you back."

"You're already not paying me back!" he shouted. I flinched as flecks of spit flew onto my cheek. "Do you know how behind you are? Did you forget how much money you owe me?"

"I know exactly how much money I owe you, Lending Tree," I growled. "But we both know you're loan sharking the shit out of me and I'm going to be paying you for all eternity. Most of the money I'm giving you gets eaten up by late fees and interest."

He cocked his head to the side. "You think you're so smart, don't you, whiz kid? Think of what would've happened if you put all that money towards college tuition instead of just burying it in the ground."

_3._

I closed my eyes and clenched my fists. He knew what buttons to press.

"I told your mother you were gonna end up like this, a product of your environment. I could already tell, even when you were little. But she said her mother would make sure that didn't happen. Look how that turned out."

_5._

"We did a great job with Natalie. She's really going places. But look at you. Poor. Uneducated. Gay. It's a shame your dad was too cheap to pay for that abortion, eh?"

_7._

"Fuck. You." I spat through gritted teeth. My fists were shaking violently and for the first time since I'd gotten back from McKinley, I was really, really afraid of myself.

"Now is that how you ask someone for money?" He moved forward so that he was standing right in front of me. "You know what? I'm gonna give it to you. I won't even make you pay me back for it. Consider it a gift from your dear old stepdad."

I knew better than to get excited. This man's favorite activity in the world was breaking me down.

"I'll give it to you, free and clear." He leaned forward so that his breath puffed out on my face when he spoke. "I'll give it to you if you ask me really, really nicely."

I inhaled deeply and clenched my teeth together. "May I have the money?"

"That's not nice enough."

I curled my lip. "May I have the money, please?"

"Say pretty please."

"Pretty please."

"Pretty please who?"

"Sir."

"Nope. Try again."

My stomach turned and I knew what he wanted. We'd done this one before. I knew he wasn't going to give me the money until I said it.

"May I have the money, pretty please, _Daddy_?" I spat. The words tasted foul in my mouth. I couldn't open my eyes, but I could tell he was grinning.

"Why sure, Santana. Here you go." He grabbed my hand and slapped a large roll of cash into it. "Don't spend it all in one place."

I closed my hand around the cash and blindly shoved it into my coat pocket.

"Now get out of my house," he hissed.

I turned on my heel, blindly grabbed the door knob, yanked the door open, and slammed it shut behind me as hard as I could.

That turned out to be pretty fucking hard. I slowly powered down and opened my eyes.

Natalie was standing in the hallway with her mouth hanging open, staring over my shoulder. I turned around and saw that I had split the heavy, oak study door right down the middle from top to bottom.

_Shit._

She snapped out of her trance. "Santana."

"Eat your Wheaties," I said as I walked quickly past her to the entrance. I could hear her walking behind me, but I was more interested in getting away from the house before Ebenezer Scrooge came out and decided to charge me for the door, too.

"Santana!" she hissed. "Hey, slow down!"

"No time," I called back. "Gotta run!"

I hopped into the car and stuck my key in the ignition, ready to speed down the street and get the hell out of Beaumont. In West Lima, the cops were notoriously slow at responding to anything less than a pile of dead bodies. But in East Lima, if my stepdad called the cops, they were gonna be there with bells on.

Natalie grabbed the door before I could close it. "Dammit, Santana! Just stop for a second!"

"For what, Nat?" I snapped. "If you'd like to roll your eyes at me, I have two of my own and I can roll them in the mirror when I get home."

She huffed and let go of the door. "Forget it then. Just go."

_Why is everyone trying to make me the bad guy today?_

"Nat. Wait." I closed the door and rolled down the window, glancing quickly at the house to make sure no one was coming out to get me. "Tell me. What did you want to say?"

She looked really uncomfortable without her bitchface on. It was always weird for me to be around her since we looked so much alike and we barely knew each other. Nat was a virtual stranger that shared my face. She had a few of her dad's features and some of his mannerisms, but so many things about her were undeniably Lopez. Mainly her dimples and her apparent discomfort with any emotion that wasn't anger.

"I just wanted to say…" she sighed and met my eyes. "I just wanted to say that you shouldn't listen to him. He's an asshole."

"He's your dad," I pointed out.

"And? He's still an asshole. When he says stuff to me, I just ignore him. You just have to block him out until he gets tired and tells you to get out of his office."

There was a time in my life when I was incredibly jealous of Natalie. It was easy to be envious of her from across the city when I saw her on the news getting another award or when I ran into her at the mall as she swiped her dad's credit card until the numbers came off. But up close, I could see the cracks in her mask. The pressure she was under was ridiculous and she had to deal with Dr. Douchebag and my insane mother every single day.

_Not worth it. I would've run away years ago._

She rested her arm against the car and leaned into the window. "I didn't know that that's why you come over here. I didn't know you owed him money."

"Eavesdrop much?"

"I thought you left a long time ago. You're usually out of here in two seconds."

"Yeah, well." I didn't know what she wanted me to say. "Now you know, I guess."

"Why would you ever take money from him?" she asked, sounding angry with me. "He's… he's so _horrible_. Now you're gonna have to deal with him for the rest of your life."

I shrugged and gave her a little half smile. "I was desperate and he was the only one who would help me. Now I gotta pay the piper, lie in the bed I made, reap what I've sown, et cetera."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I'd do it again," I admitted. "In a heartbeat."

She looked at me for a second. "You're really dumb, you know that?"

I smiled. "It's genetic."

"Whatever." She smirked at me and rolled her eyes. "Bye, Santana."

I winked at her. "Bye, Nat."

_I think we could be real sisters one day. Maybe._

"Hey!" she called as I backed out of the driveway. "I'm glad you're not dead. Or whatever."

"Me too, Nat. Me too."

* * *

><p>I walked into the apartment and Mercedes was already there, sitting on the couch.<p>

"Honey, I'm home!" I said, putting my keys on the hook. I pulled out the check I'd written for my half of last month's rent. "How was your-"

Mercedes stood up and turned toward me. There was a stuffed giraffe in one hand and an old shoebox in the other. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, waiting for an explanation.

_You left Mr. Ziggles out. Busted._

Mr. Ziggles was my childhood stuffed giraffe that was only to be removed from his shoebox in extreme situations. When Mr. Ziggles was out of the box, it was a clear indication that the Dungeon of Feelings was open and the prisoners had escaped.

I reached out, holding my hand open, and Mercedes reluctantly handed Mr. Ziggles to me. I clutched him to my chest and petted his soft, downy fur. It was matted in some places, but the little guy was getting old. He showed all the signs of being a well-loved bedtime companion.

"Well, hey there, Mr. Ziggles," I chuckled weakly. "And to what do we owe this pleasure? Are you joining us for dinner?"

Mercedes didn't laugh. "I really hope you're not about to play dumb."

"Who's playing dumb?" I asked, playing dumb.

"I found him in your bed, Santana." She paused, scrunching up her face. "Well, _there's_ something I never thought I'd say."

"I've been sleeping with him," I admitted. I paused, too. "Yeah, this conversation sounds really weird."

"Be serious, Santana," Mercedes said. "You're supposed to tell me when you take him out of the box."

Mr. Ziggles looked up at me with his glassy, black eyes. I booped his little nosey and scratched him behind the ears.

"I don't have to tell you everything," I mumbled, still feeling raw after the confrontations with Quinn and the man that married my mother.

Mercedes eyes bugged out of her head.

"Excuse me? You don't have to tell me-" She stopped mid-sentence and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. I couldn't believe I said it, either.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a clear indication that she was suppressing rage.

"Look, Santana," she said calmly. "I'm not judging you. I'm not trying to pick a fight with you. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm great," I said, waving her off. I offered her the rent check. "Look. I come bearing gifts."

Mercedes looked at the check in my hand, but didn't move to take it.

"Lauren gave me an advance," I said, quickly answering the unasked question. "I have a little extra left over, so I'm gonna go to the dealership-"

"Santana, stop."

I immediately stopped talking. Mercedes shook her head, drawing her mouth into a tight line.

"Lauren called me today."

_Shit._

"Did she now?"

"You had another panic attack."

I nodded. "I did. It… could've gone better."

"And she apologized to me for not being able to give you the advance you asked for since money is tight right now."

_Damn your blabbermouth, Lauren Zizes._

I shrugged and looked down at the ground. She stepped closer to me and bent down to catch my eyes.

"Santana, look at me."

I sighed and looked into her eyes. I could tell by her voice that she was upset, but when I looked into her eyes, I saw that she was really hurt.

"There are things that I never ask you about because I don't want to put you in a position where you have to lie to me. I never asked you if you were gay. I'm not going to ask where you got that phone or who's leaving notes on your car."

I swallowed and looked away again, but she put a finger on my chin and tilted my face back towards hers.

"I wasn't even going to ask you about taking Mr. Ziggles out of the box. I already knew because you kept putting the box back in the coat closet with the wrong side facing out." She exhaled through her nose and closed her eyes. "But do you know that you left him right on top of your pillow this morning? I walked by your room and he was just laying out on the bed. Like you couldn't even be bothered to _hide_ him from me."

"Mercedes-"

"And this random money. I know you're in debt, Santana. You told me about that. But I've never seen a single one of those bills come to this apartment. I never ask you about that."

I felt like an idiot. All this time, I thought I was pulling one over on Mercedes by not telling her about my stepdad's loan, but she knew I was lying about the whole thing.

"Mercedes, please-"

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid, Santana," she said as she blinked back tears. "Don't act like I'm not paying attention to you and I'm not gonna notice when something is wrong. I always give you time to figure things out before you come to me. But if you're gonna lie to me, at least have the decency to put up a good front because when you don't, it makes it that much harder for me to trust you."

Her words felt like a punch to the chest.

"Mercedes, don't." I threw my arms around her neck and hugged her tightly. "Please don't say that. You know you can trust me. I'm your best friend. You can always trust me."

"I just need to know you're okay," she said into my hair, clearly ignoring the part where she was supposed to say that she _did_ trust me. "As hurt as I am that you would lie to me, I know it would hurt a lot worse if something happened to you because you weren't okay and you didn't tell me. I can't make you tell me the truth, but I want you to promise that you'll tell me if something is really wrong, okay?"

I nodded, burying my face in her neck.

"I'm so sorry, Mercedes," I whispered. And I really was. I didn't want to keep things from Mercedes and I hated lying to her, but I didn't want to put her in any danger. "No more lies. I'm okay, I'm just dealing with some stuff. I would tell you if something was going on. Okay?"

She nodded and gave me a big squeeze before releasing me and stepping back.

The air was thick with Heavy Emotions and I didn't like it, mostly because I got the feeling that Mercedes wasn't buying what I was selling. With good reason: everything I'd just said was a lie.

"I have to get going," she said, clearing her throat. "I need to help April and Sugar with some stuff, so I'm going in a little early."

The check was still in my hand. She looked down at it and frowned. "Keep that. Or tear it up."

"I owe you," I said, trying to hand it to her.

"You don't owe me." She wouldn't open her hand. "And if I take that money from you, I'm going to ask you where you got it from."

We locked eyes for a moment and there was clearly a challenge hanging in the air. I wanted to give her the money because she needed it and I'd gone through a bunch of bullshit to get it, but I wasn't about to call her bluff. I wordlessly tucked the check into my pocket and plopped down on the couch.

"Have fun," I said tonelessly. I grabbed the remote, tucking Ziggles under my arm. Now that the giraffe was out of the bag, it was probably okay to watch TV with him for a little while. "Tell Trouty I said hi."

Mercedes leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Be good."

"I'll do my best," I said, not looking at her. I couldn't take seeing that hurt look in her eyes again.

She closed the front door behind her and left me on the couch, cuddling my giraffe like a giant baby and feeling like the shittiest best friend in the world.

* * *

><p>I let Ziggles watch Bravo for a few hours while I waxed nostalgic about my shitty day.<p>

_Quinn's an evil, homophobic bitch. What the fuck, Shelby Cochran. A parking ticket, two Post-Its, and a partridge in a pear tree. Lauren Blabbermouth Zizes and her fucking words of wisdom. My stupid stepdouche owns me for life. Mercedes is so upset with me-_

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out.

_Brittany: Hey there, stranger!_

I couldn't stop the dopey grin from leaking out onto my face at the sight of Brittany's name.

_-Hey! What are you up to?  
>Brittany: Mischief ;)<em>

_-And hijinks?  
>Brittany: Yes. Also, shenanigans.<em>

_-No tomfoolery, I hope. Where are you?  
>Brittany: I'm at Ladies Night, but you're not. This Long Island tastes like awful. Save me, please!<em>

_-That sucks :( Who made it?  
>Brittany: I don't know her name. The pregnant one?<em>

_-Oh, Harmony. Tell her I said you don't have to pay.  
>Brittany: Too late, I already did. I even tipped her extra since she's bartending for two. Are you coming in tonight?<em>

April hadn't called me to fill in since I returned and I was pretty sure Mercedes told her not to.

_-Nah, I'm just hanging out tonight, watching some trashy reality shows.  
>Brittany: That sounds like way more fun than this : Would you mind some company?_

I grinned. Finally this shitty day was going to take a positive turn.

_-Come on over :)  
>Brittany: Great, see you in a bit!<em>

I immediately hoped off the couch and jumped in the shower. Then I went to my closet to decide what to wear.

_NO SPONGEBOB UNDERWEAR. Sexy panties? I don't want to look too presumptuous… but if she's looking at my undies, didn't I presume correctly? Why is she seeing my undies? What is this scenario, besides unlikely?_

In the end, I put on a normal, matching bra and panty set, a nice pair of sweatpants, and t-shirt. I was supposed to be spending a night vegging out on the couch, not having the Queen over for tea.

When she knocked, it took everything in me not to run for the door.

"Hey, Brittany," I said in an embarrassingly warm and gentle voice. "I'm so glad you came. Over! I'm so glad you came over!"

_Congratulations. That wasn't dirty until you made it dirty._

Brittany didn't seem to notice my pervery. "Me too! I was so bored. I had to get out of there. Sunshine was supposed to be stripping, but she kept ending up with more clothes on than she started with. I wasn't exactly sure what I was watching. I think it was performance art."

I stepped aside and let her in. Brittany had been to the apartment a few times during the week, but that was when Mercedes was around. It was interesting to watch them interact. They really were friends and they didn't need me around to be comfortable with each other or to have a good time. They had their own inside jokes and experiences, and sometimes I got completely lost during their conversations. It was like finding out your mom and your teacher were friends back in high school.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that yet.

"Oh," she said, "this was on your door." She handed me a Post-It note.

_Crocodile Hunter,  
>We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way.<br>Your choice.  
>-Sweet Daddy<em>

I groaned and crumbled the Post-It note up.

_This guy's getting a little too close for comfort._

"Who's Sweet Daddy?" she asked, walking into the kitchen area and pulling a glass out of the cupboard.

"Uh… it's an ice cream place," I said, stuffing the paper ball into the pocket of my sweats "They just got a soft serve machine and they're really excited."

Brittany filled her glass from the tap. "And they're advertising on sticky notes?"

"Not a great business model, but times are hard," I said. "Let's talk about something else."

_Santana Lopez, Master of the Segue._

"Ok," Brittany said, leaning against the stove. "How was your day?"

"Let's talk about something else," I repeated.

She frowned. "Why? What happened?"

Clearly, Quinn the Best Friend to Ever Friend a Friend hadn't gotten a chance to rat me out yet.

"It just wasn't a good day." I filled a glass with water for myself and took a long drink. Brittany just watched me, waiting for me to finish.

"Do you… do you maybe want to talk about it?" she asked hesitantly. "I meant what I said the other day. Whenever you're scared or angry, you can always talk to me."

I sighed. "It's complicated, Brittany."

Her face fell.

"Oh. You think that I wouldn't understand," she said dejectedly. "It's okay, I get that a lot."

"No, it's not that," I said, correcting her. "I just… I don't even know how I feel about some things. It's kinda hard to talk about."

She looked down at her hands nervously. "Santana, if something is going on and you need help, we all can work through it together, you know? You don't have to deal with all this stuff on your own."

_Gee, that sounds familiar._

I frowned. "Brittany?"

"Yes?"

"Did Mercedes send you here to check on me?"

Brittany's mouth opened but no words came out.

"Thought so," I huffed.

Brittany shook her head and put her hand on my arm. "Mercedes was worried, but it was my idea to come over. I'm worried, too. I know you don't want to talk about it and I'm not gonna force you, but I'll be here when you need me."

_Stop being an ass to people who actually care about what happens to you._

As an apology for being an ass, I put on that embarrassing, dopey grin for her. "Thanks, B. I really appreciate it."

It seemed to make her really happy. She gave my arm a squeeze. "Anytime. Now let's watch some trashy TV."

She set her glass in the sink and walked toward the living room couch. As she reached down to pick up the remote, her eyes moved to the other side of couch and her face lit up. She gasped.

"Who's your friend?" she asked, reaching down and picking up Mr. Ziggles.

_You gotta stop leaving that damn giraffe out. He's nothing but trouble._

"Oh god," I mumbled, blushing. "That's just- don't worry about him."

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" She sat down on the couch, petting his head and waiting for my answer.

I cleared my throat. "His name is…" I sighed. "His name is Mr. Ziggles."

She smiled brightly and held him up. "He's such a cutie pie. And I like his name. It suits him."

I sat down next to her and flicked Ziggles's tail.

"His name is Ziggles because his mane doesn't go straight up his back," I explained. "It's a zigzag."

I ran my finger up his spine, showing her the pattern of his hair. She traced the path behind my finger and our hands touched as we reached the top. I blushed, pulling my hand away.

_Grow up, Lopez._

"Looks like you've had him for a while."

"Yeah, he's ancient," I chuckled. "He was my very first friend. He predates Mercedes by two months."

"Really now?" Brittany had this amazing way of making inane shit sound really important without sounding sarcastic.

"Yup." I flicked his tail again and smiled. "He was a gift from my abuela. I had trouble sleeping by myself after my mom left, so she gave me Mr. Ziggles."

"Your mom left? Where'd she go?" she asked quietly. We both stroked Ziggles, not really looking at each other.

"She moved in with her husband. He lives in Beaumont."

"She didn't take you with her?"

"He didn't want me there, so she couldn't take me. I mean, I stayed there every other weekend and a few weeks during the summer, so it's not like we didn't see each other. I just wasn't allowed to live there."

Brittany's hand stopped stroking Ziggles. I could feel her eyes on me, gauging my reaction, but my stepdad's rejection wasn't something that made me sad. I hated him. I never wanted him to claim me as his kid.

It made me sad that my mom regularly forgot that I existed.

"So Mr. Ziggles helps you sleep?" she asked, steering the conversation back to somewhat safer territory.

"Yeah, I slept with him every night for a few years, but my abuela told me I was getting too old. So we put him in a shoebox that said "In Case of Emergency" on it. When I needed him, I'd take him out for a few nights and then put him back in the box."

"He's out now," she observed.

"Yes, he is."

She didn't state the obvious and point out that if he was currently out of the box, then it must be because I needed him. Instead, she just said, "He sounds like a good friend."

"He's been a great friend," I agreed. "He's like Mercedes without all the backtalk."

She giggled and nudged me with her elbow. "She backtalks you because she cares."

"I know she does."

"I care too," she said, smiling shyly.

"Then where's all the backtalk?"

"I'm not good with confrontation. I prefer the Ziggles method. Quietly supportive."

"Yup, that's Ziggles. He's always been very supportive of me." I turned Mr. Ziggles so that he was facing us. "Zig here was the first person that I ever came out to."

Brittany grinned. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," I said. "When I was in ninth grade, I took him out of his box and I said 'Mr. Ziggles, I think I love girls the way that I'm supposed to feel about boys.'"

Admitting it to myself through Mr. Ziggles had been absolutely terrifying. The box was sitting in my lap for an hour before I could even open it.

She stared at Ziggles as if he was going to start speaking. "And how did he take it?"

"He took it well. He said that as long as I'm happy, he'll be happy for me."

"That's awesome, Santana." She stroked Ziggles under his chin with her thumb as if to thank him for being kind to me. "Sometimes, people don't react that way."

I let her pet Ziggles quietly, waiting for her to feel comfortable enough to share.

She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. "So… what would you have done if he… if he didn't take it so well?"

"Well," I said slowly, thinking of a polite way to get the point across, "I guess I would've told him that if he couldn't support me, then maybe we shouldn't be friends."

She shook her head. "But you can't just not be friends with him. Qu- I mean, Mr. Ziggles has done so much for you and he's always been there when you needed him."

_I guess we're not talking about Mr. Ziggles anymore._

"It doesn't have to be permanent," I said. "Ziggles might come around and then we could go back to being friends. But until that happens, we'd have to part ways."

She sat up straight. "You would do that? You would choose being… being gay over your best friend?"

"There's no choice to be made, B," I said. "I'm gay. I can't choose or unchoose that. I can only choose whether I want to have friends that accept me or friends that make me miserable."

My sexuality wasn't something we'd ever discussed at length before, so this was different for us. I decided to go out on a limb.

"What would you have done?" I asked cautiously.

Her eyes widened and she let go of Ziggles completely.

"I'm not gay," she said quickly. "I mean, I don't… I never-"

_Holy gay panic, Batman!_

I patted her arm. She was freaking out so I threw her a life saver. "I mean, if you were me, what would you have done?"

She relaxed slightly, letting her shoulders drop and sinking into the couch a little. She stared at Ziggles for a second, then she let out a short, brittle laugh.

"I'd take it back."

We sat in silence for a minute as she quietly traced the zigzag mane with her finger.

"I took it back and I pushed it all way, way, way down."

She seemed to realize that she was breaking the rules of our little giraffe game, so she cleared her throat and added "I mean, I would have, if I were you."

It hurt my heart that Quinn would make Brittany do that. I wanted to jump up from the couch and go kick her ass for being the worst best friend in the world.

Brittany cleared her throat. "What if you knew that Ziggles was never going to accept you? What if he said that being… gay was wrong?"

I dropped the giraffe in her lap and turned to her, grabbing both of her hands in mine.

"It's not wrong, Brittany," I said firmly. "We all love who we love. Some people love boys, some people love girls. That's just how it goes."

"Some people love both," she said quickly. Her cheeks turned pink and she bit her lip. "Maybe."

"Some people love both," I agreed. "And if someone gets upset about that, they're probably a shitty friend anyway. A good friend would accept you for who you are."

I wanted to call Quinn something much worse than a shitty friend.

"But nobody else will accept it," she said sadly.

"Other people don't matter." I leaned forward and squeezed her hands tighter. "And it's not something you have to share with them if you don't want to. But if you let other people run your life, you'll always be unhappy. Don't let them keep you from what you want."

"I want a _lot_ of things," she whispered. "So many things."

Our eyes locked and her tongue darted out, quickly wetting her lips.

"Like what, B?" I asked, watching her tongue as it slipped back into her mouth.

"Sometimes I want-" Her eyes dropped to my lips, then trailed down my throat, over my chest, down my stomach, all the way to my thighs. "Sometimes I want _everything_."

"Everything?" I squeaked.

"Everything." Her eyes moved slowly up and back down again. I gulped. It felt like she was looking straight through my clothes.

_1._

I ignored the charge running through my body. I wasn't going to let it keep me from what _I_ wanted.

"I think I could help you with that," I whispered breathily. I suddenly sounded like an asthmatic phone sex operator.

Brittany's eyebrows shot up and for a second, I was afraid that I was totally misunderstanding what she was talking about. But then I saw how hard she was breathing and I realized that her expression wasn't shocked.

She was excited.

My heart was thumping hard in my chest and for the first time ever, energy flowed… south of the border. Everything suddenly felt tingly (like my vagina had fallen asleep) and warm (like I'd just pulled it out of the dryer).

"I think I would like that," she whispered back, wetting her lips again with her tongue. She hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to my jaw.

_2._

She paused there, parting her lips and kissing my jawbone. "It's not wrong, right?" she whispered into my skin.

"Not wrong at all," I said, taking a deep, calming breath.

_Control yourself._

"Good." She smiled and began to gently kiss across my jaw, all the way up to my ear.

_3._

She rested her hands on my shoulders, pulling me forward slightly.

"Not wrong?" she asked before placing a kiss on my ear lobe.

"Not wrong."

"Good."

Without warning, she lowered her head and dropped a hot, open mouthed kiss on my neck. Her tongue slid against me in a broad, flat swipe.

_5._

_No! This is bad! Mayday, mayday!_

"Oh dear," I muttered incoherently, shutting my eyes and gritting my teeth as she nipped at my neck. "Oh my word. Oh when the saints go marching in."

My hands clenched involuntarily and energy ebbed and flowed in my palms erratically.

_Call an ambulance!_

Her hand slid up from my shoulder to the back of my head, pulling me closer to her lips and tongue. She took the skin of my neck between her lips, sucking softly.

"Britt," I croaked. "Oh jeez. Oh good heavens."

_Why am I talking like June Cleaver?_

She released my neck with a loud pop.

"Yeah?" she asked, running her nose up my neck and cheek.

I just sat there stupidly, breathing hard. "I… uh…"

_I need you to stop before you kill me._

"It's okay," she said. I could hear the smile in her voice. "We can want this. You said it's not wrong and I believe you."

My heart was hammering in my chest. I nodded like an idiot. "Okay."

_It's not okay! Help!_

She kissed my sweaty temple. "Good."

I felt her nose brush against my upper lip as she took my bottom lip between hers, sucking it into her mouth. I groaned into her kiss, wanting badly to run my fingers through her hair, but knowing I'd probably blow her head off if things got out of control. I used both of my hands to grab onto the couch cushion beneath me. Brittany ran her tongue across my lip and I opened up for her, sliding my tongue against hers and tilting my head so that-

"I SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR YOUUUUU!"

I jumped back the entire length of the couch and almost flipped off the other side.

"What the hell?" I asked, shaking the Brittany-induced haze out of my head. Brittany's phone was blaring from inside her pocket. The ringtone literally killed my buzz, causing me to power down completely. I opened my eyes and blinked like a drunk owl.

Brittany looked at me apologetically before pulling her phone out and answering it without looking.

"Yes, Quinn."

I couldn't make out what Quinn was saying on the other end, but it didn't sound happy.

"I'm just about to come home now," she said. She mouthed the word 'sorry' before running her hand through her hair and letting her head fall back on the couch. "Yeah. I'm just watching a movie with Mercedes. Okay, yeah. I'll pick some up on my way home. Ok. See you in a bit. Bye."

She hung up and turned her head so that she was facing me. Her face was flushed and she was grinning.

"I liked that. A lot."

"I did too."

_It was awesome, but it also shaved years off of my life expectancy._

"Not wrong?"

"Not wrong."

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," she admitted bashfully.

"We can do it whenever you want," I smirked.

_Don't tell her that!_

She turned away, facing the window. "Not really. Not in public."

"We don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable," I said, trying not to sound disappointed. If she wasn't ready, she wasn't ready.

"I just don't want to upset anybody," she said quietly.

_And by anybody, you mean Lucille Quinn Fabitch._

"Well, I'm sure if Mr. Ziggles gets upset, he'll get over it."

She frowned slightly. "You do know that we weren't really talking about Mr. Ziggles, right?"

"Yeah, Britt," I chuckled. "I'm aware."

"Ok," she said, "just checking."

She gathered her purse and her phone, and stood up.

"I'll see you later, Santana. Thanks for… you know."

_Oh no, baby. Thank _you.

I winked at her and waved as she walked around the back of the couch. Picking up the remote, I flipped through two or three channels before I felt a hand on the back of my neck. Brittany's head popped back into view.

"One for the road."

She leaned down and pulled me into a searing kiss, gripping the back of my neck tightly. She pulled back, gently pecking my lips and grinning.

"You're a really good kisser," she whispered. And with that, she strode out of the house, closing the door behind her.

I collapsed against the couch, legally dead.

"She's going to kill me," I told Zig, catching my breath. That's when I saw that I had burned two gigantic circles into the couch cushion with my hands while Brittany was kissing me.

"Oh shit!" I hopped up from the couch, quickly grabbing the cushion and flipping it over as if Mercedes was going to walk in at any moment.

_This is going to be a problem._

After a few hours of watching movies, I fell asleep on the couch with Ziggles. When I woke up three hours later, the sun was just starting to rise. Sometime during the night, Mercedes had thrown a comforter over me because she's a good friend and I'm a lying sack of shit.

Once my eyes focused, I realized that Mr. Ziggles, who had been tucked safely under my arm when I fell asleep, was sitting on top of the comforter, leaning against the couch.

"Hey, you," I said, wiping sleep from my eyes. "What are you doing all the way over there?"

I reached out and grabbed him, but there was something stuck to his back. When I pulled him away from the couch, his head came off and fell into my lap.

"Oh my god!" I screamed. I slapped my hand over my mouth, muffling my screams so that Mercedes wouldn't come out and ask what was wrong. But I couldn't stop screaming because there was a sticky note hanging off of Mr. Ziggles's body.

_Kurt was in my apartment. Kurt was inside my fucking apartment while I was asleep._

I pulled the sticky note off of Ziggles, not wanting to read it, but knowing that I had to. Kurt was usually wordy, but this message was short and to the point.

_Ok. The hard way it is._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Sweet Daddy, y u so creepy tho?

I'm kinda sorta in love with the idea that almostcanon!Santana (aka Natalie) could exist at the same time as AU!Santana.

I'm not sure if the whole East Lima/West Lima thing is coming from a gangster rap influence or the fact that I read Maniac Magee in elementary school.

Also: "Quinn" doesn't look like a word to me anymore.

I wish I could update more often, but I don't see that happening. So my goal for now is to keep it under two weeks :/

As always, feedback is welcome. I also have le tumblr (lateinlifetiburon).

Until next time!  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	9. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

**A/N:** Not much to say on the front end. Long chapter is long, so let's get cracking.

Disclaimer: Fox/RIB owns Glee. I do not.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang<strong>

Not five minutes later, my phone rang. It was Puck.

I quickly grabbed Mr. Ziggles's corpse and took him to my room so that I wouldn't wake up Mercedes with my phone conversation.

"Hey P-"

"I fucked up," Puck said frantically into the phone. "I fucked up really bad."

It sounded like he was driving. The panic in his voice momentarily distracted me from my own problem.

"What's wrong, Puck? Where are you?"

"I lost him," he said. "Damn it! I lost him!"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"I was doing surveillance on Kurt and I left my post to go take a nap in my car. I've had like, six hours of sleep in three days, so this is _so_ not my fault. When I woke up, Kurt was gone."

"Ok, timeout," I said. "How are you doing surveillance on Kurt? Aren't you guys in Canada?"

"Yeah, well… about that," Puck said nervously.

"Puck… what's going on?"

"We're actually in Lima. We came down the day after Kurt's press conference."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," I hissed into the phone. "You've been in the city for an entire week? Kurt's pumping out more sticky notes than Office Max and you were here this whole time? He broke into my apartment this morning! He decapitated my giraffe!"

"Decapitated your giraffe… is that like a sex thing or…"

"No, Puck," I sighed. "He cut the head off of my stuffed animal."

"Oh!" Puck said. "Well, yeah. That wasn't Kurt. Kurt's been under 24 hour surveillance all week. He writes the sticky notes, but he sends his guys out to deliver 'em. Don't worry, he wasn't in your house."

"What a relief," I said, rolling my eyes. "It wasn't Robin Hood, it was his band of merry men. Now I can rest easy."

"They're not going to hurt you, Santana," Puck said. "If we thought you were in real danger, we would've sent someone to watch you."

"You don't know that!" I snapped. "I could've woken up with a bullet in my face this morning. My roommate could've walked in on them violating my giraffe and gotten blown away."

"If they were going to shoot you, they would've shot you a week ago," Puck pointed out. "Kurt wants something from you."

I slammed my fist on my desk. "What the hell does he want? I guarantee you I don't have it!"

"Nobody knows what Kurt wants," Puck snorted. "Well, he wants to get Juiced, that's obvious. Artie's got the Goo, so all Kurt needs is a chamber. But we have no idea why. He's just some random fashion designer with too much money on his hands. No clear motive."

This was news to me. I didn't even know how to make sense of any of it.

"All I know is that I'm tired of chasing these idiots around," Puck continued. "These past two months have been a goddamn mess and I'm sick of Kurt's face."

"Well, I've only been around for one of those months, but I wholeheartedly agree with that statement," I said. "What are you going to do about Kurt being on the loose?"

Puck sighed. "If I don't find Kurt before my shift is over, Baby Figgins is gonna tattle on me and the entire team is going to take turns kicking my ass. I'm gonna go to his usual stops, but if he's not there, I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Not to be rude, but why are you telling me this? The only way I'll find Kurt before you do is if I run into him at Zippy Mart."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid. Part of the surveillance job is making sure Kurt doesn't get within a five mile radius of you. I don't know where he is, so I can't guarantee that he won't come after you. I wanted to give you a heads up, just in case."

"If he hasn't tried to approach me all week, what makes you think he will now?" I asked.

"He's been gearing up for something, but we don't know what," Puck said. "He's not going to wait for that chamber to fall in his lap."

I was so sick of this fucking chamber business. I told him I didn't have one a month ago. Why would I suddenly have one now?

"I just need to find him ASAP. I'll do what I can, but be careful, okay? Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Santana!" Mercedes called from the living room. "Breakfast!"

"Hey, look, I gotta go," I said quickly. "Keep me posted."

"Roger that."

I hung up the phone, picked up Mr. Ziggles, and made my way to the kitchen. Mercedes had declared that Saturday morning would now be known as "family breakfast time" and it appeared that Sam was going to be our first chef. He must've slipped in while I was on the phone because there was Tupperware all over the counter, and he and Mercedes were already sitting at the table. A plate was ready for me at my usual spot.

"Morning," Sam called across the room. Mercedes looked up to say good morning, but she saw Mr. Ziggles and her mouth dropped open in horror. I plopped down into my seat and held Ziggles up for her to see.

"What did you _do_?" she asked, looking at me like I'd brought an actual headless giraffe to the table.

"We had a little accident." I put him on the table and slid him towards her. "Fix him."

She sighed. "Santana, I can't."

"Fix him… please?"

"You know I don't sew like that." She poked at the stuffing coming out of his long fuzzy neck. "I can put a button on a shirt or fix a hem, but this is pretty serious."

I put my hand up to silence her. "This is a medical emergency, Mercedes. I don't want to hear excuses. I want to hear solutions."

"Well, the solution isn't going to involve me sewing Mr. Ziggles back together," she said, shaking her head.

"That's one gnarly cut, Mr. Ziggles," Sam said, rubbing his own neck and grimacing. He patted Ziggles on the head. "Hang in there, bud."

Sam always addressed Ziggles directly and it made me love him that much more.

"Hurry up and eat," Mercedes said, picking up her fork. "Your food is going to get cold."

I sighed and pulled Mr. Ziggles back to my side of the table. There was a pancake and some fresh fruit on my plate.

"What's with the single pancake?" I asked, squirting a generous glob of syrup on my plate. "I thought they only traveled in stacks."

"Normal people would just say 'thank you,'" Mercedes said, pouring me a glass of orange juice.

"Did you invite some normal people over? I'll be sure to pass the message along when they get here."

"Sam cooked breakfast this morning." Mercedes and Sam looked at each other with those stupid, lovey-dovey matching grins that you buy out of a catalog when you get engaged. "I think he did an excellent job."

"Thanks, babe," he said, winking at her.

I took a big bite and chewed.

After a few seconds of pure, unadulterated horror, I promptly spat it back onto the plate.

"Santana! Gross!" Mercedes whined. Sam wrinkled his nose and pulled his own plate closer to him.

"What is this crap?" I shouted, wiping my tongue on a napkin.

"It's a pancake," Sam said cheerfully.

"No, no," I said, poking the alleged "pancake" with my fork as if it would spring up and attack me at a moment's notice. "I know pancakes and this is not a pancake. This tastes… healthy."

"It's a low-fat whole wheat pancake," Mercedes said. "It's good for you."

"I don't… what? Are you speaking English?"

_That's that crazy mumbo-jumbo that my mom tries to drill into Natalie. Not in my house!_

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I used whole wheat flour instead of-"

I pushed the plate away and crossed my arms. "I don't need to know about the kinky stuff you get into in your own kitchen, but in this house, we use bleached white flour like the good Lord intended."

"Since when are you interested in what the good Lord intended?" Sam smirked.

"We have an understanding when it comes to food." I turned the bottle of syrup around, peering at the label. "And don't bring your fancy imported sauces over here, either. What is soogafrey?… Shoogafrey… Sha… S-"

Mercedes put her hand over her face. "It's sugar-free maple syrup, Santana."

My eyes narrowed and I dropped the bottle on the table as if it had burned my skin.

"Blasphemy," I hissed. "No one would ever _make_ something like that."

She rolled her eyes at me and set the bottle upright. "Stop being so dramatic."

Sam just laughed at me, taking another bite of his wheaty abomination.

I pointed at him and leaned across the table. "You stay out of my kitchen. You're banned."

"I cooked this at my house," he pointed out.

"And that's where you should have left it. You're still banned."

I mentally added him to the list of people that I'd banned from specific rooms in the apartment. No one believed that I was keeping track, but I was. Sugar was pretty much banned from everything except the welcome mat and the fire escape (pending the results an ongoing investigation).

"At least eat the fruit," he said, pointing at my plate with his fork. "Look, I put some strawberries there, some blueberries, some fresh melon. You like all that stuff."

I scowled. "Yeah, but it's touching the… the…"

Mercedes pointed to the label on the syrup bottle. "Say it with me: sugar-free-"

"I will not say that," I snapped. "That's not a real word."

I turned back to Sam. "The fruit is touching that sauce and I can't eat it now."

"You have to eat something. We need to leave soon."

"Leave?" I took a sip of my orange juice, the only edible thing on the table. "Where we goin'?"

Mercedes looked at me incredulously. "You're kidding right? We have a dress fitting in an hour! Did you forget?"

"No…" I said, letting my eyes wander up to the ceiling.

Mercedes sighed and started cleaning up her plate. "Go get ready and we'll stop at McDonald's on the way so you can eat."

I got up and dumped Sam's "food" in the trash, then washed the "syrup" off of the plate. When I walked by the table again, Sam held Ziggles out to me.

"Don't forget Zig," he said. "Bring him to the bridal shop. I'm sure they have a sewing machine in the back. They might be able to help him out."

I took Ziggles from Sam and just stood there, staring at his goofy, enormous grin.

_I missed you, you big stupid geek._

I leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for cooking breakfast today, even though it was awful. I'm buying you a Paula Deen cookbook for Christmas. Remember, there's no recipe that can't be improved by adding more butter."

He wrapped his arm around me and gave me a tight squeeze. "I'm glad you're back, Santana."

I made a face and pushed him off of me. "Ugh, ok, no. Everyone vomited their Feelings on me yesterday and you missed it, so too bad. You can use some of that sap to make some real syrup next time."

He patted me on the back and walked to Mercedes's bedroom. "Wait until you try my sugarless sugar cookies!"

I shuddered.

"Ziggles," I whispered. "I think we're gonna have to find another place to live."

* * *

><p>We pulled up to Judy's Bridal an hour later. Sugar and Fiona, Mercedes's favorite cousin, were already waiting outside. Judy's Bridal was an expensive looking boutique in the upscale, fancy part of downtown. I felt a little out of place, especially since I had Ziggles with me in a McDonald's bag, which I'd poked small holes in so that he could breathe.<p>

_Not sure he's going to be doing a lot of breathing since his head isn't attached to his body. Also, he's a stuffed animal._

Sam got out of the car with us, but he wasn't allowed to come inside because supposedly it's bad luck for a groom to see a bride in her dress before the wedding. It sounded like a load of bull to me, but it wasn't my wedding.

"Santana!" Fiona screeched. She threw her arms around me and gave me a big hug. Fiona was a few years older than us. She was always around when we were kids, rolling her eyes at our hair-brained schemes and telling us we were ridiculous.

"Hey, Fi," I said. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you, too," she said, smiling. "I'm glad to see that you're okay."

Having my disappearance brought up in casual conversation suddenly reminded me of the ominous purple cloud looming over my life. Almost instinctively, I did a quick scan of the parking lot, looking for any shady ass vehicles that might belong to the one and only Sweet Daddy. The parking lot looked clear, but I could never be too sure.

"Lopez," Sugar said, nodding in my direction.

"Motta," I replied, completing our greeting ritual.

"Mercedes," Fiona said, looking through the storefront window. "Not to get all up in your finances or anything, but this place looks really expensive. Can you afford this?"

Mercedes smiled. "Don't worry, I got a hookup."

I turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "A hookup? Here? Who?"

Right on cue, the door opened and out stepped Brittany The Girl I Totally Kissed Pierce, looking like a runway model in a black pantsuit and fancy looking heels. This wasn't a Hillary Clinton pantsuit, either. It hugged tightly to every curve and dip of Brittany's luscious, luscious body.

_Cue drool._

"Hey, you're here!" she said, smiling brightly. "What are you doing outside?"

"We just pulled up," Mercedes said. "Thanks for doing this, by the way. I really appreciate it."

"Oh, it's no problem," Brittany grinned. Her eyes slid over to me and her expression softened. "Hey, Santana."

I smiled shyly back at her. "Hey, B. Good to see you."

Our voices were the auditory equivalent of fresh baked cookies: warm, gooey, and not meant to be shared with the general public.

Sugar snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. I shot her a warning death glare.

"Judy's got an area all set up for you in the back," Brittany said, gesturing inside. "Come on in!"

Sam took both of Mercedes hands in his and pulled her to him.

"I love you and I cannot wait to see you in your wedding dress," he said, smiling softly. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips. Mercedes placed her hands on the sides of his face while I internally vomited at their public display of affection.

I rolled my eyes, looking away from the lovebirds, only to catch Brittany staring right at me. Our eyes locked and I felt myself flush all over. I immediately thought of the night before.

_Her soft lips sucking at my neck, her firm grip on the back of my head, her long, strong fingers sliding up and down my giraffe-_

_Wait, what?_

_No. Just no._

A blush spread across her cheeks, but she didn't look away. I knew she was thinking about it, too. I licked my lips and my eyes flicked down to hers. Her breath caught and she bit her lip, watching me intensely.

Fiona cleared her throat, breaking the sexy spell everyone had fallen under. Mercedes and Sam reluctantly broke apart, and Brittany and I forfeited our staring contest.

"There must be something in the water down here," she said to Sugar. She opened her big purse, revealing a large plastic bottle. "This is why I only drink Dasani."

Sugar opened her purse too, revealing a shiny, metal flask. "Dasani's not going to cut it if you want to make it through the day with these people. Let me know when you're ready to upgrade."

Mercedes and Sam were whispering sappy goodbyes to each other, while Brittany looked anywhere and everywhere except at me, letting the red fade from her cheeks.

"Let's go inside," Fiona said, looking from Sam to Mercedes, then from me to Brittany. "I hope they have the A/C on because I don't think I can take all this… heat."

This time, Sugar threw her head back and laughed out loud.

* * *

><p>"Welcome to Judy's Bridal! Which one of you ladies is the bride-to-be?"<p>

The woman who greeted us was enthusiastic and cheerful and everything that shouldn't be happening before noon on a Saturday.

Mercedes stepped forward and stuck out her hand. "That would be me. Mercedes Jones."

"Well, it's wonderful to meet you, Mercedes," the woman said. "I'm Judy Fabray."

_And I'm Dr. What T. Fuck ._

I wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at the same time.

_Of course. Why wouldn't we be spending the day with a member of the illustrious Fabray clan?_

"I've heard so many great things about you," Judy said. "Brittany just thinks you're the bee's knees!"

_The bee's knees? Did she say that on her way to the sock hop?_

Brittany wasn't even paying attention. She was staring at my lips again. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, telepathically screaming at her to stop ogling me in front of everyone. I was pretty sure that anyone with Fabray DNA wasn't going to appreciate her leering.

"When she told me that you were planning a wedding, I just had to offer my services!" she went on. "Brittany is like a daughter to me and any friend of hers is a part of our family, too. Isn't that right, Brittany?"

She put her arm around Brittany's shoulders, bringing Brittany abruptly back to the present conversation.

"Huh? Oh, right! One big happy family." Brittany laughed nervously and smiled back at Judy.

"Daydreaming again?" Judy chuckled. "That's our Brittany. Always with her head in the clouds."

Brittany's smile fell a little, but she quickly recovered.

"I'll go get the champagne," she said before heading to the other side of the room.

While Brittany was opening the champagne, we went around making introductions. When it was my turn to shake Judy's hand, I was afraid she was going to scream "LESBIAN!" and call her trusted followers out of the backroom to come and burn me at the stake. But she just smiled and shook my hand like she'd done with everyone else.

"Why don't you all have a seat?" she said to Sugar, Fiona, and I. "I'll take Mercedes in the back and we'll see if we can't work some matrimonial magic, huh?"

We all sat down on the giant, plush couch and when Brittany offered me some champagne, I resisted the urge to ask for my own bottle.

* * *

><p>Judy led Mercedes out of the dressing room for the fourth time.<p>

"Well, ladies," she said cheerfully, "what do we think of this one?"

Mercedes did a slow turn in the long, eggshell white dress. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great. I could tell Mercedes wasn't overly impressed with it, either.

"It's okay," Mercedes said, shrugging, "but I don't think it's 'the dress.'"

She looked it over in the mirror, then turned to the three of us.

"Ok, bridesmaids. Opinions. Go."

"I don't like it," I said. "It's too… Princess Leia."

"Looks like somebody went crazy with a Bedazzler," Fiona said, making a face.

"Can you take those poofy things off the sleeves?" Sugar asked.

Judy shook her head. "No, dear, I'm afraid I can't remove those without damaging the dress."

"Ok, then I hate it," Sugar said, finishing off her glass of champagne. "Next!"

Brittany brought over the next dress and handed it to Judy.

"Thank you, Brittany!" Judy said brightly. "Be a dear and get these ladies some more champagne, yes?"

"Sure thing, Judy," Brittany said, reaching for the bottle on the rolling cart near our couch. "Does anybody need a refill?"

Fiona and Sugar held out their glasses, but mine was still pretty full.

"So you used to work here?" I asked, taking a sip from my glass.

"Yup," Brittany said as she poured. "Quinn and I used to help out after school when we didn't have cheer practice or glee club. I worked here every summer break until I graduated from college."

"I would've killed to work at a place like this," Fiona complained. "My mom made me volunteer at the senior center. Everything smelled like Poligrip and bingo chips."

"I worked in the stockroom at a convenience store," I said, remembering the ridiculousness of working at Zippy Mart. Uncle Zippy would fire me every week for something asinine, but when I didn't show up for my next shift (because I was _fired_), he'd call my house and fire me again for blowing off work. That job didn't last very long.

"My mom told me it was illegal for Mottas to work regular jobs," Sugar said, swirling champagne in her glass. "I thought 'work' was a swear word until I got to high school."

"I always loved working here," Brittany said. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Not gonna lie though, things got a lot more fun when we were old enough to drink champagne with the customers instead of sneaking it on our lunch breaks."

"I didn't peg you to be the mischievous type," I said.

"Oh yeah, I was always scheming back then," she laughed. "Back in my bad girl days. I'll have to tell you all about it sometime."

"That you will."

For the umpteenth time that day, we locked eyes in a less-than-innocent way and my mind conjured up images and feelings from the night before.

_Her fingers scratching against my scalp, the crush of her lips against mine in her goodbye kiss, the twitch of the muscles in her wrist as she gently stroked Ziggles's tail-_

_Ok, this needs to stop. Keep the giraffe out of your sexy thoughts or he's going back in the box._

Sugar let out a yelp of a laugh, ruining the moment.

"Really, Sugar?" I snapped, glaring at her.

She put her hand over her face to keep from giggling out loud.

"Sorry," she squeaked. "Don't mind me."

A few minutes later, Mercedes stepped out in the next dress, which was hideous in ways that words could not describe. It was frilly to the point of absurdity and it had enough lace on it to cover the surface of the earth twice.

"Well," Judy asked, adjusting the thirty-foot long train trailing behind the dress. "What do you think?"

Mercedes looked in one of the mirrors and frowned. "It's too frilly. I think it looked better on the hanger. Bridesmaids? Go."

"You look like a doily," Sugar said bluntly. "That dress is what a doily wants to be when it grows up."

"Little Bo Beep couture," Fiona added.

"I thought they stopped crocheting wedding dresses in like, 1970," I said.

"Come on, guys," Brittany said. "Be nice."

"No, no," Judy laughed, "honesty is the best policy when you're shopping for a wedding dress."

"That's why they're my bridesmaids," Mercedes grinned. "If I brought my mom here, she'd fall in love with every dress just because I might get married in it. I need someone to tell me the truth."

"The truth shall set you free," Sugar said, waving her champagne glass in the air.

"Praise," Mercedes and Fiona said simultaneously before bursting out laughing.

I love the Jones family.

"Ok, that one's out," Brittany said. She walked to the rack and picked up another dress before handing it over to Judy.

"Be right back, ladies," Judy called over her shoulder. "Brittany, this one's a little complicated, can you help me?"

Brittany nodded and followed her into the back, shooting me a parting smile over her shoulder.

Sugar didn't waste any time.

"Did you guys have sex?" she asked, leaning forward in her seat.

"What?" I shrieked before lowering my voice. "No! Of course not!"

"Could've fooled me," Fiona laughed. "You guys are giving each other bedroom eyes, so… it looks like you've been spending some time in the bedroom."

"It's totally not like that. We're just friends." I pointed a finger at the two of them. "You see? This is how rumors get started!"

"So you haven't done the deed with her?" Sugar asked, grinning and wiggling her eyebrows.

"What do you think?"

"I think you haven't, but you waaaaant toooooo," she sang, swishing her finger through the air as if conducting imaginary music. "Santana and Brittany sitting in a tree, S-C-S… no wait, S-C-I-S-I… no, that's not right either. Hey, how do you spell 'scissoring?'"

I leaned over Fiona and snatched Sugar's champagne glass out of her hand. "Will you lower your voice? And how the hell would you scissor in a tree, genius?"

"Who are you trying to keep this a secret from?" Fiona laughed. "Clearly, Brittany knows that you're attracted to her. You keep looking at her like you're melting her clothes with your eyes."

_Why couldn't I get _that_ superpower?_

I shook my head and sat back in my chair.

"Just because I like her doesn't mean she likes me," I huffed. "I just don't want you guys embarrassing her, okay? So stop laughing every time we make eye contact, Sugar!"

I was totally lying through my teeth. I knew Brittany liked me and I knew she wanted to do "everything" with me. I also knew that if Sugar and Fiona could see it on our faces, then Judy and Quinn might figure it out, too. The constant eye sex was going to have to stop, or at least be diminished to the occasional eye grope.

Brittany came back in with Judy, grinning from ear to ear. "I think we have a winner this time!"

The curtain behind them opened and Mercedes stepped out in what had to be the most amazing dress I'd ever seen. It was cream-colored with a beautifully done, intricate pattern across the front and a train that was the perfect length. Unlike the rigidly designed dresses we'd seen early, the bottom half of this dress was flowy and delicate.

"Ladies?" Judy asked. The look on her face told me that she knew we'd love it.

"Mercedes, it's gorgeous," Fiona said, smiling.

"Perfection!" Sugar declared. Somehow, she'd gotten her champagne glass back.

Mercedes nodded, but slowly turned to me. "Well?"

"Mrs. Evans," I said softly, "you look stunning."

She grinned. "I know. This is the dress."

"This is the dress," I agreed.

"Fabulous!" Judy squealed, clapping her hands together. "A few alterations here and there, and everything will be perfect in time for your big day!"

"Great!" Mercedes said. She looked so happy that I couldn't help but smile, too.

Judy scribbled some things down on a small notepad before continuing. "Now, about the bridesmaids dresses. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, Sam and I both thought red should be part of our color scheme and I really like that dress you have on that rack in the back."

"Then let's give it a try!" Judy said excitedly. She gestured for the three of us to follow her into the changing area. "Come on, ladies!"

We gathered up our stuff and walked behind the curtain as Judy scampered over to the dress rack. There were several red dresses hanging there.

"This style?" Judy asked, pointing at one of them. Mercedes nodded. "Alright then, let's see."

She eyeballed the three of us and quickly grabbed a dress off the rack, handing it to Fiona. "This should fit you and…"

She grabbed another and handed it to Sugar. "…this should fit you…"

Before she could reach for the third, Brittany snagged a red dress of the rack and held it out to me.

"This should fit you," she said quietly, letting her eyes skim down my body. Our hands brushed as she handed me the dress and she blushed.

_God, she's worse at this than Karofsky._

I cleared my throat and looked away. "Thanks, Brittany."

Sugar started coughing, but I knew she was really laughing so I elbowed her in the ribs.

Judy didn't seem to notice. "If you ladies will excuse me, I need to set up another area for my next appointment. I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail!"

_Bring me back a malt from the soda shop, please._

The dressing rooms were actual rooms instead of the toiletless bathroom stalls you change in at a department store. I chose one at random and quickly locked myself inside, sighing and resting my head against the door. If Brittany didn't calm down, she was going to explode in a shower of sexual tension, demolishing the door of her own closet in a hail of rainbow shrapnel.

I dropped my stuff, which was pretty much just my house keys and a bag full of Ziggles, onto the chair in the corner and changed my clothes. When I stepped in front of the full-length rolling mirror, I had to admit, I was pretty pleased. The dress was strapless, red, and shiny, three things that normally looked pretty good on me. The bottom poofed out a little too much for my taste and it wasn't a perfect fit, but overall, I liked it.

I opened the paper bag and angled it towards the mirror. "What do you think, Zig? Am I sexy or am I sexy?"

He didn't say anything.

"I know, right? You're speechless."

Since I had a free minute, I pulled out my phone so that I could get an update from Puck.

_-How's KurtWatch 2012 going?  
>Amsterdam: Not good. I haven't seen any trace of him and I'm running out of time.<em>

_-And you really can't get any help on this?  
>Amsterdam: If by "help" you mean "a foot in my ass," then yeah, there are five people who would love to give me some help. Keep an eye out?<em>

_-Will do, but if I see him before you do, I'm probably fucked.  
>Amsterdam: True. At least we'll be fucked together.<em>

_-If I wanted us to be fucked together, I could think of more convenient ways than this mess you've gotten us into.  
>Amsterdam: Are you suggesting a threesome? I'm game if your lady friend will be joining us.<em>

_-Ew, where did you get that from? Over my dead body!  
>Amsterdam: I guess I could be into that, too.<em>

_-I'm ignoring you now.  
>Amsterdam: Ok, ignore me, but keep your eyes open.<em>

I stuck my head into the hall, as if Kurt would magically appear in a wedding gown, ready to have it out in the middle of Judy's Bridal. The only one in the hallway was Brittany, who was rearranging the dresses on the rack.

That's when I remembered that we needed to have an important conversation about leering.

"Psst," I whispered. Her head snapped up and she looked at me. I waved her over and she walked to my dressing room.

Her eyes immediately drifted down to my cleavage.

"Whoa" was all she said.

"Um… Brittany."

"They look so soft, like pillows," she muttered to herself.

"Britt," I sighed. I opened the door wider so that she could come inside. "We need to talk."

She walked into the room and closed the door behind her. I let her leer at me openly for a full fifteen seconds. After all, it wasn't often that the twins came out to play. Might as well let her enjoy it.

I cleared my throat to get her attention.

She slowly dragged her eyes up to meet mine and realized I'd been watching her.

"I totally wasn't staring at your boobs," she said quickly.

"Brittany, you have to control yourself."

"What do you mean?" she asked before her eyes dropped right back to my tits.

"I mean _that_," I said, lifting her chin back up with my finger. "We can't keep checking each other out in public if you want to keep this thing under wraps. People are starting to notice."

Her eyes widened. "Like who?"

She sounded so scared, I just wanted to hug her.

"Sugar and Fiona think we had sex."

"Sugar and Fiona- oh god, that means they think I'm-" She put her face in her hands. "What if they tell Quinn? What if Quinn-"

"Nobody's telling Quinn anything," I said, rubbing her arms reassuringly. "But if we don't cut out the eye sex, Quinn is going to put two and two together and get gay as the answer."

Brittany sighed and rubbed a hand across her face. "I'm sorry. It's just that I've been trying not to kiss you for months and now that I actually did it, I just want to do it again. It's kinda hard to be around you without getting… distracted. I … I just wanna _touch_ you all the time."

…_why are you trying to stop this from happening again?_

I swallowed hard. "I have no qualms with you touching me, but I just think you should be careful if you don't want Quinn to find out about this before you're ready to tell her."

If I had things my way, Brittany would tear down her closet door and tell Quinn to fuck off, but I knew Brittany really cared about Quinn and neither of them were ready for her to come out (again).

"Ok," Brittany said. She took a deep breath as if psyching herself up for a difficult task. "Every time I get the urge to kiss you, I'll just think about kissing Lord Tubbington."

I scrunched up my face in confusion. "Who's Lord Tubbington?"

"My cat," she shrugged.

_So when she wants to kiss you, she'll think about kissing her pussy. This is helping… how?_

"I guess that could work," I said. "So we'll try that. Anything that helps with self-control in public."

"Got it." She nodded her head and smiled, then looked down at my hands. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh!" I said, remembering Ziggles. "Sam said you guys might be able to help me with something. Mr. Ziggles had a little accident."

I handed her the bag. She opened it and frowned.

"Poor Mr. Ziggles. This looks really painful."

"Can you sew?" I said hopefully. "Or maybe Judy? I just need somebody to put his head back on."

"I can do it," she said seriously. "I'll fix him up for you. He'll be as good as new."

"Awesome," I said, relieved. "I was worried that I didn't know anyone who could help him."

"Don't worry about it, I've got this," she said.

"Good," I replied, slowly watching as her eyes drifted back to my chest.

_Oh, Brittany. What am I going to do with you?_

"So I take it you like the dress?" I asked playfully. Her head snapped up and she smiled bashfully.

"I really, really like the dress."

I turned back toward the mirror, inspecting my reflection.

"I like it, too," I said. "The fit could be better, but that's what Judy's for, right?"

"Actually, I'm going to be helping Judy with the alterations," she said.

Suddenly, Brittany's hands were on my sides, pinching lightly at the fabric around my stomach.

"We can take it in a little here."

She was standing right behind me, speaking directly into my ear. Her eyes met mine in the mirror before drifting down over my body. She spread her fingers over my stomach and her thumbs began to move in small, slow circles.

_1._

"Brittany," I said in a warning tone. "We just talked about this."

"What?" she asked innocently. "I'm not doing anything. This… this is how I do all of my fittings."

"I think you're lying." My breath hitched as her hands slid slowly up my sides. "Shouldn't you be taking measurements or something?"

"Trust me," she whispered. "I'm a professional."

_A professional what? And do you make house calls?_

Her hands stopped at the top of the dress.

"And we can let it out a little up here, so that you're more comfortable," she said. "But honestly, I really like it the way it is." She moved her hands a tiny bit higher and ran her thumbs hesitantly along the top of my dress, softly grazing my bare skin and making me shiver.

_2._

"Britt, come on," I complained. I didn't know if I was complaining because she was going too far or because she wasn't going far enough. "Self-control, remember?"

She buried her face in my hair, bending so that her lips were pressed against my hairline.

"You said in public. This isn't public. It's just us."

"This is semi-public," I said, trying to ignore the feel of her lips moving against my skin. "Quinn's mom is here."

She spread her fingers out again, this time gently caressing my clothed sideboob.

_3._

I closed my eyes so that they wouldn't shine in the mirror, hating everything about Goo and superpowers and life in general.

_I gotta stop this._

"You're so soft, Santana," she said into my neck. "I could touch you all day."

_I don't wanna stop this._

"You're soft like Marshmallow Fluff, but you taste so much better."

_What the… I don't know why, but that's sounds so hot._

Grabbing my shoulders, she turned me around and pressed me gently against the wall, looking straight into my eyes.

"I've wanted to kiss you so badly all day. Can I kiss you, Santana?"

Her eyes flickered between my eyes and my lips. I said the only thing I knew how to say when it came to Brittany.

"Okay."

She skipped the preamble and immediately got down to business, sliding her tongue against my lips. I took it into my mouth, sucking it tenderly.

_4._

_Not the tongue! Anything but the tongue!_

There's something really fucked up about encouraging and participating in a kiss that could kill you. Kissing Brittany felt amazing and I wanted to keep going, but I knew eventually, I was going to burn a hole in something.

"I love your sweet lady kisses," she whispered, breaking the kiss. She swooped down and latched onto the spot on my neck that was quickly becoming our new favorite.

"Oh gee wilikers," I breathed.

_Welcome back, June Cleaver._

She leaned forward, pushing her entire body against me. She groaned against my neck as her breasts pressed against mine.

_5._

I got that surging, flowing feeling in my palms again and I knew I had to stop. I pulled away quickly, panting.

"Too fast," I croaked out. "I can't- I need to calm down."

She nodded, her nose grazing the side of my face. "Okay."

I leaned my head back against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

"I thought you said you were going to think about your cat."

"I did," she said. "It just made me want to make out with my cat."

I laughed and shook my head as I powered down. It was clear that Brittany wasn't going to be the one who had to have self-control around here. She didn't know that I was a ticking time bomb, ready to literally and figuratively explode at the slightest hint of arousal. I was going to have to figure out a safe way to have sweet lady kisses. There was just one problem.

The only people who had any knowledge about supersexual relations was a trio of males that I really didn't want to discuss that particular subject with.

A loud knock on the door startled the hell out of Brittany.

"Santana, hurry up," Mercedes called. "Everybody's waiting on you."

"Ok, I'll be out in a minute," I called back. "Go sit down and I'll be right there."

When Mercedes walked away, I turned to Brittany. "You go first."

She grabbed Mr. Ziggles from where one of us had dropped him on the floor.

_Whoops. Sorry, little guy. I still love you, but I had to get my mack on._

She put her hand on the door knob, but before she opened it, she turned back to me.

"One for the road," she said. She leaned over and gave me a soft kiss on the lips, then hurried down the hall with my giraffe.

_I've created a monster._

I adjusted my dress and fixed my hair, trying my best to look like I wasn't just getting my freak on in a dressing room. As I turned to leave, I looked at the wall and noticed two large black scorch marks where my hands had been pressed against it.

"Shit," I muttered, frantically rubbing at the wallpaper, but it was useless. That wall was fucking barbequed.

I grabbed the rolling mirror and slid it in front of the wall, tilting it at exactly the right angle so that you wouldn't be able to see the burn marks unless you moved the whole thing.

"Perfect," I said to myself. I couldn't even pretend I was talking to Ziggles because he was no longer in the room. "See? I got this whole thing under control."

Then I remembered all the fun and amazing things I couldn't do with my Hands of Burning Death.

"Maybe perfect isn't the right word."

* * *

><p>Sugar, Mercedes, Fiona, and I met Sam for a late lunch at a restaurant downtown. It was a nice day, so we sat at a table outside under a large umbrella. Sam listened attentively as Mercedes went on and on about her dress.<p>

"I sent a picture to my mom and she called me back crying and carrying on," Mercedes laughed. "She's a mess."

"I love your mom," Sugar said, slightly less tipsy now that we were eating food and drinking water. "She calls me her 'little cannoli.'"

"You should send a picture to Grandma," Fiona said. "Somebody taught her how to open text messages and now she thinks she's on the Geek Squad."

"Which grandma?" Mercedes asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Grandma Jones, duh," Fiona laughed. "The one that's gonna tell you she loves your dress and that she's excited for your big day."

"What about your other grandma?" Sugar asked.

We all rolled our eyes in unison, if that's possible.

"Her Grandma Hardwell?" Fiona said. "Well, Mercedes is gonna be standing at the altar with her gay maid-of-honor, getting married to the white stripper she's been doing the nasty with for two years. So let's just hope our dresses won't get drenched by all the holy water Grandma Hardwell is gonna be flicking on us from the front row."

Even after two years, Mercedes and Sam's relationship was still a new and foreign thing for each of their families to deal with. Needless to say, both sides had very vocal haters.

"Come on, Fi, let's think happy thoughts," Sam said, steering the conversation away from family members who wouldn't be so happy on their special day. "I'm really, really excited to see this dress now."

"It's so beautiful, baby," she gushed, squeezing Sam's hand. "You're gonna love it. It makes me feel like a princess."

"You are a princess," he said. They leaned in to kiss for the eleventy billionth time and I gagged.

"Excuse me, Romeo and Juliet, but some of us are trying to eat here," I said, pointing to my food. "It's bad enough you tried to poison me this morning. Now you're going to ruin my lunch, too?"

"You're getting mad about people kissing? Everybody knows you were getting your freak on in the dressing room earlier," Sugar said offhandedly.

I gasped. "That's not true!"

"Santana, you took forever back there and no one could find Brittany," Mercedes said. "Then she magically appeared right before you did and her face was lobster red."

"That- that doesn't mean anything," I sputtered. "She was just helping me put on my dress."

I didn't have to be a mind reader to know what everyone was thinking: _Like that's any less gay._

"Ok, ok, we believe you," Fiona smirked. "Judy wasn't around so it's not like Brittany's gonna get in trouble for a little extra customer service. Relax."

"We didn't… I just… she had to… my zipper was stuck," I muttered.

"Of course it was. And all you needed was Brittany's lubricant to-"

"Sugar. Fucking. Motta. I will end you."

I pouted and stabbed my food with my fork. I could tell they all wanted to laugh at me. I was just about to tell them what they could do with their snide comments when I noticed something odd.

Someone was looking at me.

Not just looking at me, but _staring_ at me.

He was sitting at a table by himself, wearing a tan blazer and slacks and holding a newspaper. When I caught him looking, he didn't look away. In fact, he smiled.

_Weirdo._

Mercedes started up on the dress talk again.

"Judy's giving me my wedding gown and the bridesmaid's dresses for practically nothing because of Brittany. If we can get one of my DJ friends to do the music as a wedding gift, we can put more money towards our honeymoon!"

The staring man folded up his newspaper and pushed his chair back.

"Are you still thinking about going to Hawaii?" I asked distractedly, not breaking eye contact with my new staring buddy, Creepy McFriendly.

"Hawaii's still on the list," Mercedes said, "but we're thinking about other places, too."

Sam nodded in agreement. "We wanna keep it tropical. Maybe somewhere in the Caribbean?"

Creepy stood and slowly made his way towards us, still grinning, still holding my gaze. He didn't look threatening or dangerous. He was just weird.

"You should go to Puerto Rico," I said. "Tell my people that one day I shall return to the motherland."

"How can you return to a place you've never been to?" Fiona asked.

"Something tells me it's a lot quieter there without you," Sugar chimed in. "Mercedes, Sam, you should head to _my_ motherland, the birthplace of romance, the land of fine wine and fine food, the-"

"Jersey Shore," I finished, watching as Creepy got closer. There was only one table between him and us.

_What the fuck does this guy want?_

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sam watching me as I watched Creepy.

"I'll have you know that The Jersey Shore is not an accurate representation of Italian culture!" Sugar fumed.

At that moment, Creepy made his move. It was not at all the move I thought he would make.

Instead of approaching our group, he passed our table and moved toward the table next to us. He slowed his pace for a second, making sure he had my complete and undivided attention, before he reached down to the lady next to him, snatched her purse off of her chair, and bolted.

"My purse!" the woman screamed, pointing at the dastardly fiend as he fled with her handbag under his arm.

I didn't get up.

Just because I saved Shelby Cochran from potentially getting murdered and prevented Alexander from becoming roadkill didn't mean I was just going to hop up and help every single time someone had a stroke of bad luck.

First of all, this lady's "designer" purse was fake. That didn't mean she deserved to be robbed, but come on, how much sweat was I really gonna put in for a "Lou E. Vuitton" bag?

Secondly, I had a really bad feeling about Creepy. I know a setup when I see one.

Sam, however, was already on his feet, weaving in and out of tables to stop the purse snatcher.

"Hey!" Sam yelled. "Stop! Stop that guy!"

Mercedes, Sugar, and Fiona started yelling at Sam, but he just kept on running.

As Creepy passed by the next table, he bent down and grabbed the metal table leg, flipping the entire thing up in the air. Sam's reflexes were good, but not good enough. He slammed into the table and fell backwards on his ass.

Creepy slowed down, looked over his shoulder, and made purposeful eye contact with me one last time before breaking into a sprint.

He didn't want Sam to chase him. He wanted _me_ to chase him.

The back of Creepy's blazer flapped up as he ran, revealing the dark grey plaid lining inside and confirming my suspicions.

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms.

_Nice try, Kurt. I'm not playing._

I had absolutely no reason to follow that asshole anywhere… until Sam's dumb ass got up from the ground and started running again.

"Dammit, Trouty!" I muttered under my breath as I pushed my chair back from the table.

"Where are you going?" Mercedes demanded. She had her phone in her hand, ready to call the police.

"To stop your stupid husband."

Creepy turned into the alley next to the restaurant with Sam hot on his heels. I jumped over the table that had attacked Sam and pushed my way through the morons who had stopped to stare and talk about what was happening instead of actually being useful.

Since there was no space for me to hit superspeed, I was forced to run normally until I got to the alley. I raced around the corner just in time to see a black SUV peel out, tires squealing.

The back window was open and I could see Sam slumped over the seat, semi-conscious. Someone must have been waiting there to grab whoever came around the corner.

_It should've been me._

"No! Stop!" I took off after the speeding car. The SUV was barreling down the alley, putting distance between me and Sam with every passing second.

_You can't let them get away! Run faster!_

I charged up and kicked it into high gear, faster than I'd ever run before. The alley was long, but we were going ridiculously fast in the enclosed space. When the alley ended, the SUV shot out from between the buildings, cutting left and swerving erratically. I wasn't far behind, running out into what appeared to be a giant parking lot.

The parking lot had no less than 20 black SUVs, all angled toward the alley's mouth. All full of men in dark grey plaid suits. All pointing guns at me.

I skidded to a halt. My first instinct was to run back into the alley, but I couldn't leave Sam there.

Almost immediately, Kurt stepped out of the passenger side door of one of the SUVs. He was wearing the purple plaid suit I met him in. His peacock feathered hat was cocked to the side and he looked more like a pimp than ever.

"Well, well, well," Kurt called cheerfully. "Santana Lopez, we meet again. When I saw you save that little boy, I knew that you wouldn't be able to resist a good purse snatching. You've got the instinct."

"I don't care about that stupid fake bag," I snapped. "Give me my friend back."

He laughed. "I know you don't care about the bag, but I figured you wouldn't let anyone fall into a trap that was clearly set for you. Looks like I was right."

Blaine hopped out of the driver's seat of the SUV and immediately pointed his gun at me. Wes slid out of the backseat unenthusiastically, like he just wanted to shoot whatever needed to be shot and go home.

"Calm down, Blaine," Kurt said without even looking back at him. "Everything's fine. No need to get anxious."

He stopped about ten feet away from me, looking awestruck.

"Your eyes," he whispered. "They're breathtaking."

"You're gonna make your boyfriend jealous if you keep talking like that," I said, making sure Blaine could hear me.

"I can practically feel the energy coming off of you," Kurt said, taking a step closer. "And you're so fast, it's unbelievable."

"My mother was half cheetah," I said. "Now, if you're done 'feeling' my energy, my friend and I would like to leave without being shot at."

"No one is leaving. You and I have some important business to attend to."

"I don't have any business with you."

"I beg to differ," he said in that soft, yet dangerous voice of his. "There are a few things we need to discuss."

"_Let me put this a different way,"_ I said, charging up my vocal chords, _"because you're clearly not listening to me."_

I made a gun with my finger and took a few steps to the side so that I could see the gas tank door of the SUV that Kurt stepped out of. I lined up my shot and fired.

The beam sailed across the parking lot, hitting the gas tank dead on. The SUV exploded into a giant fire ball and jumped several feet off the ground. It hit the ground again and rocked back and forth before ultimately flipping over, smashing into the SUV next to it.

"I'm sending you an invoice for the brand new Kindle you just destroyed," Wes stated angrily. "And somebody needs to tell me who wins the freaking Hunger Games because I was just about to find out!"

Kurt watched silently as his ride went up in flames.

"_My friend and I? We're not staying here. We're leaving. Anything you want to talk about can be discussed with a competent mental health professional."_

"That was simply magnificent," Kurt said, awestruck. He whipped around to face me. "Do it again."

"What? No!" I said, clearing my throat and pushing the energy back down so that I could speak normally.

He just stood there, staring at me with a manic-looking grin on his face.

"I have a proposal to make and you need to be in an objective state of mind before we discuss it."

"I can't be objective when you're involved. I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but you're really, really creepy."

He frowned. "That's rude."

"You've been harassing me on office stationary for a week," I pointed out. "I think creepy is an understatement. Not to mention the fact that you threatened to kill me."

"You have my permission to get over that whenever you're ready," Kurt said. "It'll make it so much easier for both of us if we have a positive working relationship when you finally decide to join me."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Kurt grinned obnoxiously. "Come work for me. I'd like to have you on my team. I really could use someone with your abilities."

I looked around, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out with a camera crew and tell me I'd been Punk'd.

"Are you insane?" I asked. "You have to be."

"Oh, I'm perfectly sane," Kurt insisted. "I've always had an eye for talent and even though you may be too short for the runway, there's still a lot of power in your itty bitty frame."

"Look, Kurt," I said, "as much as I'd like to ride around in one of your fancy black cars and slap on a plaid suit, I'm gonna have to decline."

Kurt had the nerve to actually look shocked.

"Decline?" He put his hand over hand over his heart and gasped because yes, he's that gay. "I don't think you understand. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to-"

"-join your band of evil henchmen in your diabolical plot to get superpowers and take over the world, yeah, yeah, I know. Thanks, but no thanks."

He stared at me for a minute with his mouth hanging open, then threw his head back, laughing like a psycho.

"Take over the world!" he crowed. "Oh, that's a good one!"

"I'm serious, Kurt," I said. "I'm not interested in your super villain bullshit. So go back to your secret lair and find another sucker to help you out. You waltzed into my life and fucked it up, so you can just keep on waltzing."

Kurt wiped his eyes, still chuckling from my funny "joke."

"Poor, poor Santana Lopez," he laughed. "So downtrodden and put-upon, still holding on to childish beliefs in super villains and evil henchmen. Your naiveté is sweet, if not ultimately disappointing. I thought you were a bit more evolved than this, considering the sort of people you associate with these days."

"What are you talking about?"

"They didn't tell you did they?" He took a few steps closer, entering my personal space. "Your little friends at McKinley didn't tell you how they keep the lights on? How they put food on the table?"

"I don't want to know," I said. That had been my policy from the beginning. Whenever something weird would happen at McKinley, I didn't ask about it. What they did when I wasn't around was none of my business.

But I knew Kurt was about to tell me.

"Ignorance is bliss, isn't it?" he said, letting his Cheshire Cat grin spread across his face. "It must be, if you can sleep at night after you've aided and abetted terrorists."

_Terrorists._

My stomach clenched and I shook my head in disbelief. "No, you're lying."

He shrugged his shoulders and adjusted his hat.

"I have no reason to lie to you, Santana. If you don't believe me, ask them yourself," he said smugly. "I'm sure they'll be honest and upfront with you and tell you everything. Oh wait."

"What, I'm supposed to believe that they're terrorists and you're some kind of righteous do-gooder?" I snorted.

"I didn't ask you to believe anything about me. But if your reason for rejecting my offer is my character, well then I suggest you reconsider your current allegiances."

"This is bullshit," I muttered.

"Perhaps a show of goodwill could convince you that I'm not the mustache-twirling rogue you fancy me to be."

He snapped his fingers and two guards dragged Sam out of the back of one of the SUVs. Sam had a knot the size of Texas on the side of his head, barely covered by his hair. The guards threw him down on the ground at my feet.

"Sam, are you okay?" I whispered, kneeling down next to him.

"My head," he groaned, staring blearily into my glowing eyes. "It feels like I got hit by a frying pan. Do you know these people? Why do you look like that?"

I ignored his questions and patted his arm. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

"See? I'm not such a bad guy," Kurt said, gesturing at Sam. "My offer is good for 24 hours. However, I do feel obligated to tell you that if you're not with me, you're very much against me. And you do not want to be against me."

"I don't know, at this point I'm pretty used to being against you," I snapped. "I think I can handle it."

"Oh honey," he said with a laugh. The smile dropped completely off of his face, turning into a frighteningly evil sneer. "You ain't seen nothin' yet. When you're against me, you'll definitely know it. It will be like open season on you, your family, your friends. So maybe you can handle it, but can they?"

We both looked at Sam, who was woozily trying to get to his feet.

"You should have seen the look on your roommate's face when she found that sticky note that my guards put on her car," Kurt chuckled. "She was trying so hard not to look terrified. It was priceless. Next time, I'll get to see it in person."

I clenched my fists at my sides and ground my teeth together, taking a step forward so that we were toe to toe.

"Hey!" Blaine yelled from his position behind us, raising his weapon. "Stay back!"

Kurt didn't blink or flinch even though my eyes had to be blinding him. My voice came out in a forceful growl.

"_If you ever come near her again, I will tear you apart with my bare hands. Do you understand me?"_

"I said stay back!" Blaine's voice was trembling as stepped to the side so that Kurt was out of his shot. He was visibly sweating and he looked awkward and clumsy with his gun raised and cocked.

"Blaine," Kurt said over his shoulder, "calm down. Hold your fire."

He turned back to me, grinning manically.

"That blond you've been cavorting with, she's… interesting," he continued. "I heard you two were getting a little cozy last night. My guards enjoyed the show. I think a few of them might want to get cozy with her, too-"

In a split second, I grabbed him around the throat and lifted him off the ground.

Two loud bangs echoed across the parking lot and in my heightened state of awareness, I heard the bullets whizzing through the air for quite some time before they hit me. I was too focused on Kurt to react until the bullets forcefully slammed into my chest. I dropped him immediately and stumbled backwards, almost tripping over Sam in the process. Sam screamed and scrambled to his feet as I pressed my palm to the wound.

"You… you shot me in the boob," I whispered, stunned that someone could do such a thing. All the energy in my body rushed into my chest and I sank to my knees, bringing both of us to the ground.

Blood seeped through my shirt, coating my hand, and I grunted in pain. I'd never been shot before, but I could tell this wasn't how it was supposed to feel. The bullets were inside, but they felt like they weren't _finished_ yet. I could still feel them moving. The energy seemed to be slowing them down, but they were still working their way into my body. Blaine had great aim. They were eventually gonna hit something vital.

"Fuck," I hissed. I focused more energy into my chest and it seemed to slow the progression of the bullets even more, but the pain of the bullets burrowing deeper and deeper into my body was excruciating.

"Oh shit," Sam whispered. "Santana, we gotta get you to a hospital."

Blaine blanched. It was suddenly very obvious that he'd never actually had to shoot anyone. If I had known that the month before, I could have easily kicked him in the balls when he got into my truck and none of this crap would have ever happened.

"Blaine!" Kurt screeched. "I told you to hold your fire! She's useless to me if she dies! You should've shot the other one!"

Wes stepped forward looking pissed and annoyed.

"Don't send a boy to do a man's job," he sighed. He aimed his gun directly at Sam's head.

"NO!" I yelled. I jumped up and tried to send energy to my eyes so that I could beam him, but my self-preservation instincts had kicked in and my body wouldn't let any energy leave my chest.

The shot rang out and I heard the bullet whizzing toward us rapidly. There was a loud whooshing noise and without warning, I fell to the ground, landing hard on my ass.

Sam was completely gone.

Wes lowered his weapon. "What the hell?"

Every single guard looked back and forth, trying to find where Sam had disappeared to.

The whoosh came again and suddenly, I was airborne, being held tightly in the arms of the black Ranger.

"_Don't freak out, it's me. Cairo."_

He was floating on what looked like a metal snowboard. We landed on top of the nearest building and he gently placed me on the roof next to a bewildered Sam.

"_I should've taught you how to take a bullet,"_ he muttered to himself, shaking his head. His voice sounded a lot like Darth Vader, low and rumbly.

"Holy shit, the Power Rangers are here," Sam said, his voice full of reverence. "Thank you for your service, sir. Planet Earth is forever in your debt."

"Ignore him," I wheezed. "He got hit in the head."

A very familiar **BOOM** came from the parking lot below, followed by the sound of gun fire and squealing tires as SUVs fled the scene. A jolt of fear ran through me and I weakly tried to sit up, but a hand on my shoulder kept me from moving and I didn't have the strength to resist.

"_It's just Amsterdam. You know that. Stay calm, okay?"_

Another figure in black flew overhead, swooping around the building before landing nearby. He jogged over to us, quickly sliding up his visor and kneeling down next to me.

David's kind eyes peered out at me from within the helmet.

"_Yo pensé que dijimos 'no te metas en problemas__,'"_ he said, sounding a lot like Robocop. I was a little jealous of the fact that everyone had a better distorted voice than I did.

David pointed down to the parking lot. _"Kurt's bailing, heading west. You might be able to catch him. Amsterdam tried to follow him, but he's having a hard time getting out of the parking lot. Neither of us have the speed to track him."_

Ben looked down at me before hopping back on his weird hoverboard thingy.

"_Is she gonna be alright?"_

"_Yeah, she'll be fine,"_ David said, putting his hand on my back so that I could sit up. _"Just gotta get these pesky bullets out. Piece of cake."_

"Piece of cake my ass," I croaked. "I have bullets in my boob."

"_I'm gonna try to catch up with Kurt."_ He lifted off the ground and angled his hoverboard away from us. _"Keep me posted."_

They saluted each other and Ben blasted off into the sky. David gripped the hem of my shirt and looked at me for permission before lifting it up to see the wound.

"Hey!" Sam said, trying to push him away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"_Don't worry, Sam. I'm not going to hurt her."_

Sam's eye widened in shock as David quickly lifted and lowered the front faceplate of his helmet, briefly revealing his face.

"You're that doctor!" Sam gasped. "But… how did you become a Power Ranger?"

"Sam, go lay down," I ordered, lifting my shirt up to my neck. It took an insane amount of energy just to speak and move my arms. I panted heavily and rested against David's chest.

"_Hey hey, you can't get tired now."_ He sat me up so that my back was against his chest and put his hand over my wounds. _"Sam, __ayúdame por favor__. Grab her hands and hold on, alright?"_

Sam quickly scooted in front of me and grabbed onto my hands for dear life.

"_Okay, what level are you at now?"_ David asked, wiping the sweat from my brow.

"I don't know, seven?"

"_Here's what you do: you're gonna go down two levels, up two levels, push as hard as you can, and repeat. Got it?"_

"No?" I whined, confused and in pain. My body felt too weak. I slid down further in his lap. "Can't you just pull them out?"

"_Maybe if I really had some kind of medical degree, I'd go digging around in your chest,"_ he said, pulling me back upright, _"but I'd rather not accidentally kill you today. We don't have a lot of time and the longer we wait, the harder it's going to be."_

"Shit," I groaned. "Okay, let's go."

I readjusted my grip on Sam's hands, but I was sweating so much that it didn't help.

"_One the count of three. One… two… three!"_

_5… 7… push!_

"Fucking hell!" I screamed. The energy pushed the bullets backwards, but the bullets weren't coming straight out. They were getting caught on my flesh and digging new routes out of my body. It probably would've hurt less to have David pull them out with his hands.

Sam screamed and I realized I was probably going to break his hands, so I loosened my grip. David, for his part, was awkwardly squeezing my boob.

"I don't know what you're doing," I yelled, "but if I find out you're not really gay, I'm going to kick your ass!"

"_I'm trying to make the bullets come out the way they came in so that it's less painful. Don't stop or they're going to go back in! Come on, down two, up two, push, Santana."_

I took a few deep breaths and tried again.

_5… 7… push!_

I let out an inhuman cry as the bullets scraped against the inside of my chest. It was like getting shot in reverse.

"Come on, Santana," Sam said, gripping my hands tighter even though I had to be hurting him. "Push!"

"What is this, childbirth?"

"_Concentrate."_

"Fuck it, these things are coming out now!"

_5… 7… push!_

I curled forward, screaming, pushing with everything I had. My body quaked as every single muscle focused on the two foreign objects lodged in my chest. The ripping sensation built up as the metal protested against the force of my energy. With one final heave, the bullets slowly worked their way out of the holes in my chest, falling to the ground with an anticlimactic tinkling sound.

"_Don't power down,"_ David said as I slumped back against his chest. He used my t-shirt to wipe the blood off of my chest. _"Heal the wounds like you did with your thumb. Just send energy there, okay?"_

I whimpered in exhaustion, but complied, letting Sam's hands fall from mine. Now that the immediate fear of death was out of the way, Sam looked a lot less terrified and a lot more freaked out.

When I finally healed up and powered down, David got up. We looked over the edge of the building to see Puck in his silver football uniform, ramming headfirst into the remaining SUVs, letting bullets ricochet off of his chest, and tossing people around like ragdolls.

"Aren't you gonna help your friend?" Sam asked.

"_This is my stealth suit, so I'm not carrying any weapons. We're about to make our exit anyway."_

Sam nodded as if this was a normal conversation to be having. He was handling all of this weirdness very well, but I could tell by his expression that he was very close to his breaking point.

It takes a special brand of insanity to be okay with this kind of thing.

"_Amsterdam,"_ David said into his helmet. _"fall back. Take the sewers back to the base and I'll meet up with you there."_

"_Roger that,"_ Puck replied.

"_Optimus, what's your status?"_

Himanshu's voice came out of some speaker in David's helmet.

"I've got six bots in the air following different SUVs," he said. "Cairo's got an aerial view of two more, but we don't know which one is Kurt's. No sign of Roosevelt or Megazord."

"_Alright, unlock the gate in 30 minutes. Amsterdam and I are on the move."_ He pulled down his visor, wrapped an arm around each of our waists, and took a running leap off of the other side of the building. When we landed on the ground below, he released us.

"Some warning would've been nice," Sam muttered, straightening his shirt.

"_Sorry, I'm in a rush."_

We were in the alley on the side of the building furthest from the parking lot. David walked over to a manhole cover and yanked it up. He lowered himself into the hole and looked up at us.

"_Wait a few hours before you go home,"_ he said as he started climbing down the ladder leading into the sewer. _"We'll let you know when everything is clear."_

And with that, he pulled the manhole cover back over the hole and disappeared.

We stood in silence for about 30 seconds before Sam lost it.

"What. The. Fuck."

"Sam," I sighed. "Let's just forget about this. Please."

"Santana, somebody just shot you!" Sam yelled. His voice echoed around the alleyway.

"Yeah and they're going to figure out where we are and shoot me again if you don't stop screaming."

I quickly started walking, hoping we'd come out of the alley and end up on the same street as the restaurant.

He followed behind me, looking nervously over his shoulder. "You blew up a car. Your eyes were glowing and your voice was all weird and then the Power Rangers showed up. Mercedes is never gonna believe this."

I whirled around, grabbing his shoulders and making the most meaningful and intense eye contact of my life.

"Sam, you got hit in the head pretty hard, right?"

"…yeah?"

"So, you're probably thoroughly concussed right now. You don't know what you saw. It was probably all a big hallucination, okay?"

"I've had concussions before," Sam said, tapping his head on the uninjured side. "I played football. I've never had a hallucination like that. And that purse snatcher was definitely staring at you before. I know that was real."

"It doesn't matter. Nobody is going to believe that any of this ever happened, so you probably shouldn't go around running your humongous mouth about it."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "If it's just a hallucination, why do you care?"

"I don't," I huffed. "Just… just don't tell anyone, okay?"

"I remember that doctor guy. He helped Mr. Rosenbaum bring you to the apartment on the night you came back. Why would he be here? Why would I hallucinate about that?"

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "I don't know! Maybe you're just a crazy person. Just forget about this, all of it."

He pointed angrily back towards the direction of the parking lot. "That guy in the purple suit threatened to come after Mercedes and you just want me to forget about that? You want me to pretend it's not real?"

"It's _not_ real, Sam!" I exploded. "None of this is real! It's all make-believe! You're fine, I'm fine, everybody's gonna be fine!"

He lifted his hand up to my chest, gently running his thumb across the dark brown, burn-like mark right above the edge my bra cup. The bullet wounds had merged together, leaving a single rectangular scar.

"This is real," he said quietly. "And you're all bloody. That's real. And my hands are all achy from you squeezing them. That's real."

I glared at him angrily, clenching my jaw, unable to respond.

He let his hand drop and met my glare without shrinking away.

"The more you try to convince me that this is all fake, the more I think that it's real."

"Think whatever you want," I said, trying to sound indifferent, but only managing to sound incredibly tired. "Just keep it to yourself."

He blew his Beiber bangs out of his face and sighed. "I don't want to lie to my fiancée. And this thing that you're involved in, whatever it is, we can help you."

I laughed bitterly. "Believe me, there's no help for this clusterfuck."

"We can at least try," Sam pleaded. "Just tell us what's going on."

"Sam, no… just give me some time to figure this out, okay? I promise you won't have to lie to Mercedes forever. This is my problem, not yours and not hers. I'm gonna fix it, alright? I'm gonna make it okay."

Sam didn't say anything. He just took his shirt off and handed it to me.

"You're gonna need a shirt."

"What about you?"

"I'll be alright, I'm pretty abulous." He did a little body roll and I had to laugh because Freaked Out Sam Evans is still Sam Evans.

I pulled Sam's shirt over my head. It had a Playboy bunny on it.

_This is why I don't borrow clothes from strippers._

I started walking again. "Let's get out of here. Everyone is probably flipping a shit right now."

We walked in silence until we got to the street. There were two police cars parked in front of the restaurant.

_Perfect. The Lima Police Department. Now all I need is for Quinn and my mother to jump out of the bushes and I'll have officially seen everyone I'm avoiding today._

Right before Mercedes spotted us, Sam whispered one last question to me.

"Santana, who were those people anyway? The Power Rangers?"

_Terrorists._

"Honestly, Sam, I have absolutely no idea."

* * *

><p>I got the "all clear" text from David while Sam was getting an MRI. Sam didn't want to go to the hospital, but Mercedes made him. I believe she said something like "Sam Evans, we are getting this checked out right now because if you die from some kind of brain bruise before our wedding, I will kill you."<p>

I asked her if she wanted to get her brain scanned, too. She got mad and made Sugar take me home.

It was eerily quiet in the apartment when I got there. The sun was setting and all the shadows in the house were creeping me out. I checked to make sure all the rooms were empty before going into my own.

When I walked in and saw a Power Ranger sitting on my desk, I screamed.

"Relax, it's just me."

Ben had the faceplate of his helmet raised, but the rest of it was still attached to his head. He unfastened some hidden latches and pulled the whole thing off, closing it up and placing it beside him on my desk.

"You know, I'm really getting sick of people just sneaking in and out of my house," I muttered. I kicked my shoes off and threw myself down on the bed.

We sat in silence. I stared at the ceiling and Ben sipped on a glass of Country Time Lemonade that he'd jacked from my kitchen.

Finally, he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked. "You have a lot of things you could be sorry for."

"Well for starters, I probably should've taught you how to take a bullet," he said. He put down his lemonade and pointed to his chest. "It's more of a defensive skill, really. If you're expecting the shot, you can catch it at the surface so that it won't even break the skin. If a bullet gets inside, it's different. I can dissolve them in my chest with heat, but David has to push them out. Puck's like a tank, though. Regular bullets don't do shit to him."

I nodded. "Noted."

"I'm also sorry for not taking you seriously."

I snorted. "You should be. Every time I asked for help, you said 'cool story bro' and basically told me to get over it."

"It's not because I didn't care," he protested. "Kurt just isn't always our main focus. We left Puck and Himanshu here to handle him. They were both running round the clock surveillance with no chance to take a break, so it's not surprising that Puck crashed at his post. I underestimated Kurt and overworked Puck and Baby Figgins. It was a bad call."

"So where were you when all of this was happening?" I asked suspiciously.

He pressed his lips into a tight line. "David and I were overseas. We had some business to attend to. When Figgins called us and told us that no one knew where Kurt was, we flew right back."

"Overseas, huh?"

"Yup."

"Doing what?"

"Business."

"Bullshit," I said, sitting up in my bed. "Kurt told me about you guys. He told me how you 'put food on the table.'"

Ben tapped absentmindedly on his helmet and brushed some imaginary lint off of his suit.

"And what did Kurt tell you?" he asked almost inaudibly, not meeting my eyes.

"He said…" I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "He said you guys are… terrorists."

Ben's eyes flitted briefly across my face, gauging my expression before dropping back to his helmet.

"Is that true?"

"Depends on who you ask. Everything in life isn't always so black and white."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means there are a lot of shades of grey out there that we've become intimately familiar with."

I didn't even know what to say. I just kind of sat there in shock. Ben scooted forward to the edge of the desk.

"Santana-"

"Kurt was right. You can't even be honest with me."

Ben rolled his eyes. "You've gotta stop letting that guy get in your head. Don't listen to him, he's trying to mess with you."

"Oh and who should I listen to?" I snapped. "You? I don't even really know you! I thought you guys were my fr- I mean, I thought you were supposed to be the good guys!"

"What good guys?" Ben shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "What the hell is a good guy? There's no such thing as good guys and bad guys in the real world. There are just people doing what they have to do to survive."

He sat down at the edge of the bed, looking right into my eyes.

"If I've ever given you the impression that we're in some kind of battle of good and evil with Kurt, then I'm sorry because that's not what's going on here."

"Then what _is_ going on here?" I wanted to tear my hair out in frustration. "I wanted to go back to my normal life, but I'm still getting dragged into the middle of this shit and I don't even know whose side to be on!"

Ben just shook his head. "There are no sides! There's Kurt popping up in random places and trying to steal shit from us and there's us trying not to get our shit stolen! But none of that matters now. I have a feeling that that particular battle is over."

"Why?"

"I think Kurt got what he wanted."

"A chamber?"

"Nope. Confirmation." He reached over to get his lemonade off the desk, but I slapped his hand down.

"Forget the fucking lemonade! Confirmation of _what_?"

He rested his chin in his hand. "When Kurt started having you followed, we thought he was trying to see if you knew where the chambers were. But the whole time, he was just baiting you. He was trying to draw you out and confront you so that he could see your abilities. I guess he got tired of waiting."

I shrugged. "So he knows I have superpowers. Big deal. I'm not going to join his little grey gang, so he gets nothing."

"He doesn't get you, but he gets confirmation that you're extremely powerful, probably more powerful than the rest of us. And you're incredibly stable. Well, physically, at least."

I rubbed my temples vigorously. "You're losing me, Benjamin. I don't get how this is helpful to him."

"Each batch of Goo has its own set of chemical properties, even though it's all made pretty much the same way. Some are complete duds, some are extremely potent, and some will kill you immediately. Artie escaped with some Goo from the batch that you fell in, and Kurt now knows that the entire batch is good. What does he need a chamber for?"

Everything clicked at once.

_Oh honey, you ain't seen nothin' yet._

I met Ben's eyes, afraid to confirm what I'd already figured out.

"He's not going to wait to Juice himself," I whispered. "He's gonna SNIX himself. Holy shit."

Ben nodded solemnly. "He was too afraid before so he kept trying to get one of our chambers. I don't know what changed, but I guess he thinks it's worth the risk now."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "What risk? If the batch is good, he's going to get superpowers and come back here to kick my ass."

"Not necessarily. You know better than I do that SNIX is not a joke."

I suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down my spine at the thought of being submerged in green liquid fire.

"Kurt has better odds now, but he can't predict what the process will do," he continued. "A good batch of Goo doesn't mean he'll make it out of the SNIX process unscathed."

He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a bitter, mean-spirited laugh.

"I mean, just look at what happened to Artie."

* * *

><p><strong>Spanish translation:<strong>

"Yo pensé que dijimos 'no te metas en problemas'" = "I thought we said 'stay out of trouble'"

"Sam, ayúdame por favor" = "Sam, help me please."

**A/N:** Artie. Yup.

I hope the end wasn't too confusing :/ It might have been tough to follow. If you'd like it summarized, I can post it on tumblr or something.

This conversation continues in the next chapter and we'll get some more answers.

I know some people are kinda like "Ok, but where's the ass kicking? This is Chapter Fucking Nine." It's coming, I promise you. We're soooo close to ass kicking. People are wearing super suits. It is upon us, I swear.

The helmets are kinda weird. You can lift the visor up, you can lift the entire front faceplate up, or you can take the whole thing off. Does that make sense anywhere but inside my head? Probably not.

Also, they aren't dressed as actual Power Rangers. Just thought I'd stress that XD It's more like what the X-Men wear in the movies, but we'll get to that later.

As always, drop me a line anytime (PMs or el tumblr).

Happy Father's Day!  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	10. All the Powers I Possess

**A/N:** Yikes! I apologize for taking so long. I try to do everything as fast as I can, but it didn't work out so well. I had to work a lot of overtime and I kept scrapping large parts of the chapter. I would wake up and say, "Yeah, trash it. Not gonna work." It was very much an uphill battle against myself XD

There are some references to scenes from Ch. 6 (Vigilante) towards the end so if you get there and you're like "Uh… I don't remember this," check Vigilante. You'll know the part when you get to it, trust me.

Song in this chapter:  
>-"I Can't Get Next to You" by The Temptations (Youtube It: watch?v=3rP3Hi1f7Og)

In my opinion, this song could be the Fucking Super theme song. The lyrics are so perfect! The chapter title ("All the Powers I Possess") comes from the song.

Because I used italics for everything and it could get confusing, song lyrics will now be denoted with an asterisk (*).

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to RIB/Fox, not me. Songs are owned by their artists/writers/owners.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: All the Powers I Possess<strong>

"Artie? Artie got SNIX'd?"

"Yup."

"And that's why he can't walk?"

Ben nodded in confirmation.

"Wow," I said solemnly. "That really sucks."

"Yeah, what a shame," Ben snickered. "Poor Benedict Artie and his useless, noodle legs. Somebody should light a candle. Say a prayer or something."

Usually, Benedict Artie fell under my list of "I don't even want to know" topics, but finding out that I had actually met someone who was a SNIX survivor like me was fascinating. Even if he hadn't been as "lucky" as I had.

"That's pretty fucked up, Ben," I said, scooting back to rest against my headboard. "I know you guys had a falling out, but he was your friend once, right? Don't you feel at least a little bit bad for him?"

Ben looked at me like I was the dumbest person to ever walk the face of the earth.

"Artie Abrams is not, never has been, and never will be my friend," Ben spat. "I've never even met the guy."

"What?" I asked, seriously confused. "How is that even possible?"

"Just because I've thrown fireballs at his head doesn't mean we've ever been formally introduced. He doesn't know me, David, or Puck."

"I don't understand," I said, rubbing my temples. "I thought you guys were all in this together, High School Musical style. Then Artie did something dirty and now everyone hates him."

Ben sighed. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning."

"That would help."

"Okay. Let's start with what you know." He looked at me expectantly over the edge of his glass as he took another sip of lemonade.

"Um…" I tried to remember what Puck had explained to me on the plane. "The military took over Figgins and Tina's project, right?"

"Correct."

"And the test subjects were all disabled vets."

"Correct."

"And Tina invented the chambers because the SNIX process wasn't working out too well."

"Understatement of the century, but essentially correct."

"That's what I know."

"Okay, I'll fill in the blanks," Ben said, settling in next to me at the head of the bed. "I wasn't around when all this shit got started, so I'll tell you what was told to me."

He fiddled with his helmet in his lap, absently locking and unlocking the invisible latches that held it together.

"The military fired everybody at the lab except Figgins, Tina, Himanshu, and Jacob Ben Israel. They hired all new people to work on the project. Artie was hired as a 'junior researcher,' but I guess he thought he was going to be one of the head researchers. That's probably how this whole mess got started."

"Was he pissed?"

"Oh, definitely," Be laughed. "Apparently, Artie wouldn't speak to anyone who had a 'less important' job than his. As for the higher ups, well, he kissed every ass he could get his lips on."

"I guess he wasn't wasting his energy on people who couldn't get him to the top," I said.

"Well, he put that energy to good use. He was only there for a few weeks before him and Tina started… collaborating, if you catch my drift."

I made a loud gagging noise. "First of all, ew. Artie looks like the mouth-breathing love child of Bill Gates and McLovin. Secondly, couldn't she tell he was just using her? Getting on top to get on top? Giving head to get ahead?"

"Tina didn't care," Ben said with a shrug. "According to her, she was cooped up in the lab for so long that she was one strong drink away from getting it on with a member of the Figgins family. Artie was a warm body and slightly more fuckable than everyone else. She actually kinda felt bad because she thought she was leading him on."

"Mutual using, the definition of a healthy relationship."

"Yeah, and it lasted for about a year and a half before they called it off," Ben said. "Artie got fired pretty soon after that."

"Fired? Why? For getting some Cohen-Chang chacha?"

"Because the SNIX process was killing people," Ben said. "The guys who made it through were blowing their own brains out. The whole project was turning out to be a bust and the military wanted the problem fixed."

"And that's why Tina came up with Juicing."

"Exactly," Ben said, "and everybody thought it was a good idea except Artie. He believed in SNIX and he thought they were giving up too soon. He was on a crusade."

"Weird, he doesn't strike me as a boat rocker," I said.

"You met him for all of fifteen minutes," Ben laughed. "I'm sure he didn't strike you as a back stabber, either."

"Good point."

"Artie wasn't on board with the idea and he fought it tooth and nail for months while they were building the chambers. They say he was a real pain in the ass. And sure, Tina and Figgins could deal with him, but you don't tell four-star generals what to do. He showed up to work one day and the military police were already there with his stuff packed up in boxes."

"So they gave him the boot?" I asked. "Just like that?"

Ben shrugged. "It's the military. We don't play that shit. You wanna be insubordinate? Great. Take your toys and go home."

"How did he get SNIX'd then? He got fired and they kicked him out."

"Oh, he didn't stay gone," Ben said, laughing humorlessly. "He came back like a herpes flare up."

He flipped his helmet in his hands. It unlatched and opened, revealing the gunmetal grey interior. The inside of the visor had text scrolling rapidly across it. The back was cushioned and the sides had speaker holes.

"Participant #43 chickened out, so I was the first one to try the chambers," he said. "Juicing turned out to be way more reliable and consistent than SNIXing, so they stuck with it. David and Puck showed up and things were pretty chill for a while."

"Until…"

Ben sighed. "Until #43 changed his mind. He scheduled his appointment and they gave him the location of the site. It was just some tiny little shack out in the middle of nowhere where they did all of the Juicing. Tina and Figgins rode out to the shack and guess what they found."

"Uh…."

"Nothing," Ben said. "All of the Goo they were going to use that day was gone. The chamber was still there, of course. Artie thought he was going to be the one to perfect the SNIX process. He hated chambers. The soldiers let him in and helped him steal everything else."

"But weren't the soldiers part of the military?"

"They were until Artie got to them. He paid them all to pull off this giant heist and he promised to SNIX all of them once he got his hands on the Goo. They stole every single barrel of Goo in that building."

A new message flashed on the display of Ben's helmet. He muttered something under his breath.

_McKinley: Three new jobs – Okinawa ($1M), Istanbul ($450K), London ($250K). Okinawa requires flight._

He deleted the message and kept talking.

"Figgins and Tina drove back to the base and within 45 minutes, we were all under arrest."

"Wait, what?" I sat up straighter, looking away from the screen and turning toward him. "You're joking, right?"

"I wish."

More messages popped up as he spoke.

_Amsterdam: Plane flight?  
>McKinley: Nope. Body flight.<em>

"We thought it was all gonna blow over in a few days," Ben continued, deleting messages from his screen. "We were almost at the end of the Juicing cycle, so we only had a couple of days before the effects wore off."

_Amsterdam: That's dumb. I'll take London then.  
>Berlin: I've got contacts in Japan. I'll take Okinawa.<em>

"And suddenly, all these documents came out of nowhere. Records from off-shore bank accounts. Faked e-mails between Artie, Tina, and Figgins that made it look like they were in on the whole thing. Artie couldn't add our names in the e-mails because he didn't know who we were. I guess that's one thing Jacob didn't fucking tell him."

He typed something into his display and fired off a message.

_Cairo: I'll take Istanbul.  
>Optimus: Berlin, you'll need a weapons upgrade. This job's pretty hairy from what I can tell.<em>

"Puck, Himanshu, David, Jacob and I got released at the end of the month. Tina and Figgins stayed in jail."

"Shit, Ben, that's crazy," I whispered. "How long were they there?"

"A year and a half. Just waiting for a fucking trial."

"What about Artie?" I asked, shaking my head in disbelief. "Didn't they catch him?"

"If that fucker knows one thing, it's how to keep his head down. At some point, he SNIX'd himself and came out paralyzed. I would've given anything to see the look on his face when he realized that it didn't work. That he fucked himself up for life."

_House: See if you can get the price to go up for London. We need some new equipment.  
>Optimus: They tend to pay more if you stick around and do some odd jobs on the side while you're in town. Also, stop by Dublin and Paris to collect on some payments.<br>Berlin: Roger that._

"How did you find out?"

"Jacob said he ran into him randomly on the street and that should have been our first indication that _he_ was a fucking traitor, too. But what could we do? Me and David were rotting away in the veteran's hospital, Himanshu was trying to build things we could use, and Puck was out scraping together money for a lawyer. Meanwhile, Judas Ben Israel was helping Artie."

_Cairo: I'm making a stop in Cairo. I'll collect any outstanding debts while I'm there.  
>McKinley: Good deal.<em>

"Figgins and Tina got off. The evidence was proven to be fake. When they got out, we had nothing. No lab, no Goo. The military took everything. Himanshu managed to put together some pretty badass robots from scrap metal so we could protect ourselves if Artie and his soldiers showed up, but other than that, we were just a ragtag gang of cripples and scientists with no money."

"So the logical conclusion was to become a ragtag gang of terrorists," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Why do you keep throwing that word around?" Ben snapped. "Like you even know what it means."

"Why? Does it bother you?"

"No. I just don't see the point in using it."

"I think it bothers you."

"It's a word. It means as much or as little as you want it to mean."

"So what would you like me to call you then?"

"I don't care what you call me," he said, sounding agitated. "It's just another way for you to make this black and white when it isn't."

I pointed to his screen. "What are you planning next, huh? Or should I just watch the news?"

Ben slammed his helmet shut and glared at me. "You're not gonna see anything on the news. When somebody needs something done, we do it. We don't ask questions, we don't take sides, and we don't judge."

"But how do you know you're not hurting innocent people?" I asked. "How do you know you're not making the world an even hotter mess than it already is?"

He picked his helmet up and plopped it in my lap. "Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing if you were me."

"I wouldn't," I said defiantly.

"You wouldn't?" he said. "Really? What if you needed to make billions of dollars a year, just so you could produce a chemical that keeps you functioning? What if you had people telling you that they're _this_ close to curing cancer, AIDS, diabetes, and the fucking common cold? I'm not proud of what I do. I'll be the first one to admit that some of my reasons are selfish. But if Figgins and Tina work this shit out, they could save millions of people."

"And that balances out for you?" I laughed at the absurdity of it. "Kill these people to save those people? That's insane."

He shrugged. "If I don't take these jobs, someone else will. At least this way, the money might help someone. I'm keeping all of that money away from people who could do some really bad shit with it."

"Well, if I were going to use my abilities, I'd want to help people now, not possibly help them in the future," I said. "With the powers that you have, I think you could really do some good things in the world."

"Good things typically don't pay the kind of money we need," he said bitterly.

"You don't know that. I bet you haven't even looked."

"I don't need to look!" he snorted. "I thought I was doing a 'good thing' when I went to Baghdad and you know what I got? A roadside bomb. It burned my skin so badly, my own family couldn't recognize me. You tried to get some lady's stolen purse back and what did you get? Shot in the chest. Twice."

I didn't say anything. I just let him calm down and catch his breath. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

"You can say you're the good guy and you're doing the right thing, but you know what? There's always gonna be somebody there with a bomb or a bullet who thinks _they're_ the good guy and _they're_ doing the right thing." He plucked his helmet out of my lap. "So now you know why I said that there are no sides. Kurt's got his bomb and his 'right thing', we've got ours. If you want to go with Kurt, go with Kurt. I won't even be mad. You get to decide where you want to go. Be your own Sorting Hat."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" he said defensively. "I read."

"I didn't say anything. Harry Potter is for kids of all ages."

He stood up from the bed and slid his head inside the helmet, then opened the faceplate so I could hear him talk.

"You probably think I'm a horrible person now, don't you?" he chuckled.

I attempted to give an indifferent shrug. "I'm not your mother. You don't need my approval to do anything. I guess you have your reasons, even if I don't agree with them. But if you have your reasons, Kurt probably has his. Hell, Artie and Jacob probably have reasons for doing what they did, too. So if I don't judge you, then I can't judge them, either."

"I suppose you're right," he frowned. "I hate logic sometimes."

"And I already thought you were a horrible person anyway, FYI."

"I figured as much," he said, grinning. He closed his faceplate and opened the window.

I hadn't noticed the weird, book-shaped piece of metal sitting on my desk until Ben picked it up and tossed it out of the window like a Frisbee. A few seconds later, it came whizzing back. It popped open and stretched into the shape of a snowboard and hovered in the air above the fire escape.

For some reason, my stepdad popped into my head. My situation wasn't as extreme as the McKinley team's situation, but I could relate.

"As someone who also does shady shit to pay her bills," I called to Ben as he climbed out of the window, "I really think you can do better than this. I probably could, too."

He hopped onto his board and strapped his feet in.

"Well, if you find me something legit that keeps the Goo flowing, I'm down like a submarine."

And with that, he zoomed off into the sky, leaving me with more questions than answers.

* * *

><p>Tina showed up around 10PM.<p>

"What are you doing here?" I asked, looking up and down the hall to see if trouble was lurking around the corner. McKinley people always seemed to show up with bullshit and baggage following close behind.

"I came to make sure you're properly healed," she said.

Her hair had the usual colored streaks in it, but instead of a lab coat, she wore black goth clothes, complete with duct tape accessories and randomly placed safety pins. Her messenger bag had medically themed patches and stickers all over it, like a red cross, the winged staff, and the prescription symbol.

"So you show up unannounced, dressed like Marilyn Manson's primary care physician?"

"Move, Santana." She pushed past me into the apartment, sat down on the couch, and started pulling doctor shit out of her bag.

"I heard you got into a fight with a pair of bullets," she said as she searched through her belongings. "I also heard that the bullets won."

I plopped down on the couch next to her, frowning.

"Why don't you ever take my injuries seriously?" I asked, picking up her stethoscope and hanging it around my neck. "You have the bedside manner of a flaming cactus."

Tina laughed. "Well, you're not going to win any awards for being a cooperative patient."

She picked up a weird, shiny wand and pressed a button, causing it to whir and beep. I scooted back slightly.

"Tina, I'm flattered, but no. If you put that back in your bag right now, I won't tell Puck about any of this."

"It's not a vibrator, smartass. It's a metal detector. I just want to make sure you got everything out. Where's the wound?"

I pointed to my boob and she lifted the wand, holding it steady over the area. After a few minutes, she shut it off and nodded.

"Looks good," she said. "David's gotten lead poisoning a few times. Not pretty. He couldn't charge up. He couldn't even get out of bed."

"Are you kidding?" I scoffed. "That sounds like a vacation. I wish I couldn't charge up. Maybe then I could get my sweet lady kisses on."

Tina handed me a bottle of Gatorade out of her bag. "Sweet lady kisses?"

My face burned when I realized that I probably shouldn't have said that out loud.

_Well, you never know. Maybe Tina will be able to help._

I stood up and lifted the couch cushion I was sitting on, revealing the two large burn marks I'd made the night before.

"Every time I'm… intimate with someone, I charge up and I can't control my beams."

Tina just stared at me for a second. Then she burst out laughing.

"Santana, that's _horrible_!" She laughed so hard, she could barely breathe, that bitch.

"What? You mean that doesn't happen to Puck when you guys fool around?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"God no! That sounds awful!" She wiped her eyes and tried to catch her breath. "Sorry, sorry. That's not funny. That's so not funny."

"You're damn right it's not funny!" I snapped, flipping the cushion back over. "I thought this was normal."

"That's not even a little bit normal," she said. "That's about as weird as it gets."

"That's my life, Tina. My ridiculously ridiculous life." I sat down and put my head in my hands. "I guess that's it, then. I'm gonna have to become a nun. I'm gonna have to go join a nun… herd? What do you call a group of nuns? A flock? A school? A pride of nuns?"

She shook her head. "You really did get the short end of the stick. The guys only charge up when they want to and I doubt any of them are charging up in the bedroom. That's all kinds of kinky."

I punched an ugly couch pillow angrily. "Just what I need. More Incredible Hulk Shit that nobody can help me with. I take it you don't have any sage advice for me, then."

"Not really, no."

"Can you give me lead poisoning or something?"

"Have you ever had lead poisoning? You'd feel like crap. I highly doubt you'd even want to have sex."

"When do I not feel like crap these days? It can't be any worse than getting shot and reverse-shot."

"So if you're a tough, badass chick that takes bullets to the chest, you're not going to freak out when I tell you that I have to take some blood?" Tina reached into her doctor bag and pulled out a needle.

I hopped off the couch. "You're not getting blood out of me, Dracula."

"Don't be such a baby, Santana. If you're good, I'll let you pick the color of your gauze."

She lied. The only color she had was black.

* * *

><p>Tina had just finished packing up her stuff when someone else knocked on the door.<p>

I looked through the peephole and grinned. It was Brittany.

As soon as I opened the door, she pounced on me. She dropped all of her bags in the doorway, wrapped her arms around me, and squeezed me painfully hard.

"Oh my god, you're okay!" She lifted me a few inches off the ground.

"Britt," I wheezed. "You're gonna pop my lungs."

"Oh! Sorry!" She set me down and straightened my shirt. "I called Mercedes and she told me about you and Sam chasing that purse snatcher and the guy beat Sam up and now he's in the hospital and I was afraid that you were hurt too, but I didn't know if-"

"Britt, calm down!" I rubbed her arms reassuringly. "I'm perfectly fine. Not a scratch on me."

_Except for the booby scar, but let's not talk about that._

Brittany let out a giant sigh of relief. "Good."

She opened her arms again and I stepped into her embrace. This hug was a lot less panicked than the first one.

"I'm glad you're okay," she whispered. She pulled back slightly, looked down at my lips, and leaned in for a kiss.

Tina cleared her throat and shifted her bag awkwardly on her shoulder. Brittany's head snapped up and she immediately released me.

"Hi," Tina said cheerfully.

"Who are you?" Brittany asked with significantly less enthusiasm.

"Brittany, this is Tina," I said, gesturing between them.

Tina stuck out her hand and Brittany eyed it suspiciously before shaking it.

"Nice to meet you, Tina," Brittany said coolly. "You're Santana's… friend?"

"Yeah, I came to check on her too," she said brightly. She tapped her messenger bag. "Brought all of my doctor goodies."

Brittany clenched her jaw. "You're a doctor."

Tina nodded and Brittany's face turned into an unreadable mask.

"I shouldn't have just shown up like this," she said. "I didn't know you had company."

"What?" I shrieked. "No! Tina's leaving! Tina's on her way out the door! Tina's halfway home! Right, Tina?"

Tina nodded vigorously. "I'm so gone! Totally not even here anymore!"

"It's okay, I'm interrupting," Brittany said, picking up the stuff she'd dropped on the floor. "I just wanted to make sure you had this before you went to bed."

She handed me one of the bags and quickly backed into the hallway.

"Have a goodnight, Santana," she said quickly. "Tina, it was nice to… bye."

As she hurried down the hall, I looked into the bag. Mr. Ziggles was sitting at the bottom. His head had been reattached and he smelled like laundry soap.

I sighed. "Tina, can you show yourself out?"

"Sure thing," she said. "Go get your lady."

I walked into the hall just as Brittany stepped into the elevator.

Instead of waiting for another elevator and possibly losing her completely, I charged up a little to get some super speed and ran down ten flights of stairs. I got down to the lobby just as her elevator opened. She was looking down at her phone, texting someone. She lifted her hand and wiped a single tear from her cheek.

_She's crying because of you. Fix it._

I rushed over and linked arms with her, swinging us around in a half-circle so that we walked back inside the open elevator door. She jumped, startled by my sudden appearance.

"Santana? How did you get down here so fast?"

"Trap door," I said, pushing the button for the tenth floor. "I had one installed just in case the sweetest girl in the world tried to run away before I had a chance to thank her for fixing my giraffe."

"Where's Tina?" she asked, wiping at her face to make sure her cheeks were dry.

"Pushed her off the roof."

_I'm so glad she didn't show up when Tina was holding the vibrator over my boob._

Thankfully, Tina was nowhere to be found when we got back to the apartment. I led Brittany over to the couch, bringing Ziggles with me.

"Thank you so, so much, Britt," I said sincerely. "I really, really appreciate this."

The thread matched his fur perfectly. If I didn't know that he'd been decapitated, I never would've been able to tell.

"He's perfect," I grinned.

"Sorry about all the cat hair," she said, brushing him off. "My cat kept running away with him and hiding under the bed. He's clean, I swear."

"It's okay, I don't mind," I assured her. "He looks better than ever! You washed him and his mane is so shiny. And you did it all in a few hours! You must be like, possessed by Martha Stewart's ghost or something."

"Martha Stewart's not dead," Brittany said. "Is she?"

"Probably not. Still, you've got mad sewing skills. You're amazing."

Even though I knew it would charge me up, I wanted to thank her properly. I leaned over to kiss her on the lips, but she backed away slightly and turned her head.

_Ooooo, burn!_

"Let's, uh, listen to some music," she said quickly, trying to make the moment less awkward.

She reached over to the coffee table and grabbed one of the four remotes sitting there. After she pressed a complicated series of buttons, the radio came to life, pumping out a funky tune that I didn't recognize.

_I bought that stereo and I don't even know how to turn the radio on._

I got warm fuzzies in my cardiac area every time Brittany showed me how comfortable and familiar she was in my apartment. I knew it was because she hung out with Mercedes while I was missing and it had nothing to do with me, but I still had to suppress a dopey grin whenever she made herself at home in my home.

Well, usually I did. Right then, my face was burning with embarrassment.

_No sweet lady kisses for you!_

"Brittany?"

"Yeah?" She looked down at the remote as if it were suddenly the most fascinating object in the world.

"Do you not want me to kiss you?" I felt like such a loser for even having to ask.

"You were just…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "Forget it."

I put my hands on top of the remote and waited for her to look up at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked gently.

"You were just kissing Tina," she huffed. "I don't think you need any kisses from me."

I made a face. "I wasn't kissing Tina!"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not dumb, Santana."

"I know that," I assured her. "And I'm not lying to you. Tina really is just my friend. That's all."

Brittany met my eyes briefly and looked back down at the remote.

"I'm your friend, too," she said with a shrug. "You can have a lot of friends. If you want. Doesn't matter to me."

_Clearly, it does._

"Trust me, B. She has a boyfriend and she's not interested."

"Are you interested in her?" she asked, watching my face carefully.

"Not at all," I said softly.

Brittany laughed bitterly. "Why not? I mean, she's a doctor so she's super smart. You guys would probably have a lot of interesting stuff to talk about. You could go to museums and look at paintings where you have to tilt your head and say 'hmmmm' to understand what they mean."

I scooted right up next to her and pulled my legs up onto the couch, leaning over to whisper in her ear. "I'm not interested in her because I'm interested in someone else."

_Control yourself. You can do this. You don't need Tina or Puck or anybody to tell you how to control yourself._

I took a deep breath and kissed her behind her ear.

_1._

"W-who are you i-interested in?" she stammered, leaning her head ever-so-slightly in my direction.

"A friend of mine," I whispered against her skin. "Except she's not the same kind of friend Tina is."

"She's not?"

"Nope," I said, popping the 'p' so that she could feel it.

Brittany's breath caught in her throat as I opened my mouth and gently sucked on her earlobe. I braced myself for the inevitable charge up.

_1._

_Um…huh?_

"Do I- do I know her?"

"You definitely know her." I pressed soft kisses against her neck. "She's sweet. Caring. Funny. Talented. You should see the pictures she takes. They're beautiful like she is. And the messages she hides in them are brilliant. Just like her."

I let the tip of my tongue peek out and graze her throat.

_1._

…_is this shit broken? What's going on? Maybe I really do have lead poisoning. But I feel fine…_

"You really think so?" Brittany whispered, oblivious to my internal confusion. Her hands went to my waist and she pulled me closer.

"I know so. You know what the best part is?"

"What?"

"I don't have to tilt my head and say 'hmmmm' to understand what her pictures mean because she's always there to tell me."

I could feel Brittany's smile grow against my cheek. She grabbed my chin and kissed me soundly on the lips.

_3._

I immediately shut my eyes as my vision got hazy.

_Oh wait! Damn. There it goes._

"You're so sweet," she said. She started kissing me again and I felt the energy start to swell and surge in my body.

_4._

_Shit! Too much!_

I broke the kiss and went back to the spot behind her ear to buy myself some time. She didn't mind. She moved closer, turning her head to make it easier for me.

_1._

_The fuck is this? She barely touches me and I'm at level 1,000,000, but I kiss her and I stay at 1? What the f… wait a minute._

Control.

_Wait! You learned the scientific method in high school. You have a hypothesis. Test it before you jump to conclusions._

Hesitantly, I trailed kisses across her cheek, slowly making my way to her lips. You would've thought I was walking to the electric chair. In a sense, I was because if I was wrong, the consequences were potentially lethal.

Mustering up all the courage I could manage, I titled my head and, for the first time ever, _I_ kissed _her_.

_1._

She melted into me as _my_ tongue entered _her_ mouth. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to do a backflip. I wanted to dance the Bossa Nova.

_Thanks for nothing, Tina!_

I thought about all of the times where I'd lost control and charged up involuntarily: Puck and his stupid "boom" thing, Brittany kissing and groping me, random emotional outbursts. They were all moments where I didn't feel in control of the situation, moments when I felt like things were just happening _to_ me.

_This_ I could control.

"Hey," Brittany whispered. "Where'd you go?"

"Got lost in my head a little bit," I admitted. "Sorry, won't happen again."

She grinned and pressed her lips against mine.

_2._

_Yeah, you're doing a bang-up job of controlling this. Think of something or you're going to have to stop._

"Lay back," I whispered.

Her eyes widened slightly as she swung her legs up and scooted across the couch on her butt to make more room. She lay down and looked at me, waiting for whatever I decided to do next.

_Here goes nothing._

I lowered myself on top of her, pressing our bodies fully together. Her eyes got even wider and her mouth fell open.

I was on top of Brittany. I was completely in control of this situation.

_0._

_Holy shitake mushrooms, Lopez! This might be the most brilliant idea you've ever had!_

While I was throwing myself a mental victory parade, Brittany was lying beneath me, looking a little shocked.

"You okay, B?" I asked.

"Yeah," she nodded. "This just feels so much different with a girl."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Good different," she said, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing us together. "I always thought if I tried… being with a girl that I might not like it. I was worried about that." She smiled. "But now I know."

"Good." I pecked her lips. "I'm glad I could help you with that."

She released me from her bear hug and let her hands trail up my sides. "You're so, so soft. So much softer than Tommy. In a lot of ways, actually."

I bit her chin gently. "Hey, you're not allowed to say the T-word during sweet lady kisses."

I bent down, kissing her again. She let out a soft moan, letting her head fall back against one of the ugly couch pillows.

Everything was so much better than before. I wasn't just sitting there, scared to death and getting macked on. I was actively macking. Since I didn't have to worry about dying, I actually got a chance to enjoy _Brittany_ for once. The way she felt, the way she moved.

She was really good at this.

I moved a hand down to the hem of her shirt, letting my fingers graze the small sliver of exposed skin above her jeans. Just as I was about to go for it, the song on the radio ended and a familiar voice filled the room.

"This is B104.7 and you're listening to Midnight Mo!"

It was Mo from "Mo in the Morning."

Brittany grabbed my wrist with one hand and pushed on my shoulder with the other until I sat all the way up.

"Wait," she gasped. "Hold on. Timeout."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and tried to slow her breathing. "Just… wait."

While Brittany stopped to rest, Mo kept on chugging. "I'm here in the studio with Radio Randy, bringing you the tunes that will get your night started off right!"

I pulled her hand into my lap. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I just can't do this while he's talking. It's weird. I'm sorry."

"Who? Mo?" I looked back at the stereo as if I expected him to be standing there, watching us. "I didn't even know he had a weekend show."

"Yeah, weekdays and weekend nights," she said rubbing her temples. "Sorry for being weird. I didn't know we were going to be making out or I wouldn't have turned to this station."

I smiled kindly, kissing the back of her hand. "It's okay."

_I'm not exactly sure why you're uncomfortable, but you are, so we'll roll with it._

Mo went through his news and weather while Brittany went to get something to drink. She didn't offer any explanation as to why we took a timeout for Mo's commercial break. She leaned against my shoulder, mostly just waiting but sometimes mouthing what Mo was going to say before he said it. When he finally announced that it was time to start another block of music, she chugged the rest of her drink.

"Radio Randy, how do we wanna kick off this next block?"

Randy laughed. "We haven't had a Tubby Tabby Tune all week and I think we're way overdue, Mo."

"Excellent idea!" Mo said. "Alright, you heard the man, Tubbs. Pick out our next jam."

There was the sound of stuff being shuffled around and from somewhere in the studio, a cat meowed loudly.

"Nicely done, buddy," Randy said.

"DJ Tubberino, ladies and gentlemen!" Mo cheered. "He's on fire tonight, folks. He's picked out a classic hit from those legends of the Motor City, The Temptations. You know, sometimes I swear-"

"-this cat's trying to steal my job," Brittany finished, setting her glass on the coffee table.

When she saw the confused look on my face, she just smiled.

"Alright, Lima," Mo announced, "we're kicking off this fifty-minute music hour with The Temptations, 'I Can't Get Next to You' here on B104.7!"

"We have fifty minutes," Brittany said.

As a bluesy piano riff flowed out of the stereo behind us, Brittany leaned toward me slowly, looking bolder than before. Her hand slid up my arm and pushed against my shoulder, nudging for _me_ to lie back on the couch. I complied with her request, feeling fear settle in the pit of my stomach. What choice did I have? I couldn't really tell her to get off of me.

_This is gonna be bad._

"Time in," she whispered. She kissed me as trumpets blared in the background.

_2._

_*I can turn the greyest sky blue  
>I can make it rain, whenever I want it to<br>Oh, I can build a castle from a single grain of sand  
>I can make a ship sail, uh, on dry land*<em>

My head hit the cushion as she hoisted her lower body up onto the couch, letting her hips fall roughly against mine. I whimpered at the contact and shut my eyes. She released my lips with a loud pop.

"I can't get over how good you feel," she whispered in my ear. I groaned incoherently in response as she latched onto my lips again.

_4._

_*But my life is incomplete and I'm so blue  
>'Cause I can't get next to you<br>I can't get next to you, babe. I can't get next to you  
>I can't get next to you, babe. I can't get next to you*<br>_

We were positioned so far down that our legs were hanging over the arm of the couch.

"Scoot up," she mumbled into my mouth, pushing against me with her body to try and move me. Unfortunately for me, my body interpreted this movement as her grinding her hips against me.

_5._

The surging tingle of energy shot up and down my body in waves. Things were escalating entirely too fast and it didn't bode well for either of us.

I needed to do something drastic. Something radical. Something mammary.

_*I can fly like a bird in the sky  
>Hey, and I can buy anything that money can buy<br>Oh, I can turn a river into a raging fire  
>I can live forever if I so desire*<br>_

With no warning of any kind, I slid my hand up her side and grabbed her boob. I didn't even sexy-grab it, I grabbed it like a claw machine grabs a stuffed animal's head. She gasped and pulled back. I couldn't see the look on her face and I was glad.

"Sorry!" I squeaked. "I got excited! Is this okay?"

I loosened my grip so that I was cupping her gently instead. She hesitated for a moment before responding.

"Yeah," she breathed. "It's okay."

"Good."

Before she could lower herself over me, I pushed her back until she was sitting upright and pinned her to the back of the couch. I swung my leg over her and straddled her lap, shoving my knees deep into the space between the cushions to anchor myself. The nervous energy in my body slowed its frantic flow and I powered down abruptly.

_1._

_*Unimportant are all the things I can do  
>'Cause I can't get next to you<br>I can't get next to you, babe (No matter what I do)  
>I can't get next to you<br>Uh-YA!*  
><em>

I kissed her as I caressed her. She quickly gave up on the kiss, letting her head fall back on the couch. She pulled my other hand up to cup her other breast and sighed as I ran my thumbs over her nipples through her thin bra. Her hands wandered slowly up my sides, stopping short of my own chest and gripping my sides restlessly.

_That's probably a little too gay for her right now._

I pressed soft kisses all over her face. I was feeling triumphant. We were doing really well. The Tempations were making choo-choo train noises. Life was grand.

_*Woo-Woo-Woo  
>Woo-Woo-Woo<br>Chicka boom, chicka boom  
>Chicka boom, boom, boom*<br>_

Then tragedy struck.

Brittany lifted her head and ran her nose up my neck, getting dangerously close to The Spot.

"That feels so good, San," she said, letting out a shaky breath.

_2._

The way she said "San" threw me a bit. Brittany could give a detailed description of how enemas work and it would sound sexy, but this was entirely different. How was I supposed to function when breathy pet names were being panted out against my neck? I faltered in my motions, biting back a whimper. As I tried to center myself, she took the opportunity to kiss my neck. There. Yup, right there.

_4._

"Holy crow," I moaned, letting my hands fall to my sides.

"I like kissing you here," she murmured. "It makes you sound old-timey."

_*I can turn back the hands of time, you better believe I can  
>I can make the seasons change, just by waving my hand<br>Oh, I can change anything from old to new  
>The thing I want to do the most, I'm unable to do*<br>_

She started sucking on my neck in earnest just as her phone rang. Still sucking, she tried to fish her phone out of her pocket with one hand. I recognized Quinn's clitblocking ringtone and moved my knee so that she couldn't get to her phone.

"Ignore it," I whispered.

"It's Quinn," she said. "It could be important."

"But I hate her," I whined unattractively.

"Be nice," Brittany warned, lifting her head and giving me a punitive nip on the earlobe with her teeth.

_6._

I shuddered violently.

_Well, _that's_ new._

"Oh Mylanta," I panted. "Jesus, Britt! Did you just bite me?"

"Did you… did you like that?" she whispered.

I didn't answer. I knew she could feel the heat on my face. I put my hands on the back of the couch trying to stop my limbs from shaking because of the energy rush. She kissed her way back down my neck, phone forgotten.

_*Unhappy am I with all the powers I possess  
>'Cause girl you're the key to my happiness<br>And I, Oh I*  
><em>

"I wonder if…"

She grazed The Spot lightly with her teeth, then opened her mouth and bit me there. Hard.

_7._

I didn't hear myself yell. I didn't hear the wooden frame creak as I leaned too hard against it. Worst of all, I didn't even feel the super strength build as I proceeded to push so hard, the entire back of the couch snapped off and hit the ground.

Brittany fell backwards, landing on her ass with a thud, and I dropped directly on top of her, sweaty, gross, and suddenly exhausted. I powered myself down, which was really easy now that I was on top and she was traumatized and/or dead. She let out a pain-filled groan and I rolled off of her.

_What did you _do?

We didn't even say anything. We just kind of stayed there for a minute.

_*Can't get next to you!  
>Girl, you're blowing my mind 'cause I can't get next to you<br>Can't you see these tears I'm crying? I can't get next to you  
>Girl, it's you that I need, I gotta get next to you<br>Can't you see these tears I'm crying? I can't get next to you*_

When the song ended, Brittany just kept staring at the ceiling.

_She knows. She knows you're a weird super freak and she's probably trying to figure out the best way to get away from you._

Another song started up. I rolled over to face her, ready to try and convince Brittany that this wasn't what it looked like.

"I'm sorry," we said at the same time.

"What are you sorry for?" we both said again.

It would've been funny if it had been a TV show and not my actual embarrassing life.

"I didn't mean to do that," Brittany said, hoisting herself up from the floor.

I did a fish-on-dry-land flail until I got myself into a semi-sitting position. "It's not your fault. It's a sofa bed. It's supposed to do that."

"I wasn't talking about- nevermind." She pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Crap. Quinn's on her way back."

"Quinn's coming _here_?" I asked, restraining myself from adding the words "ew gross no" to the end of my sentence.

"Yeah, she dropped me off on her way to dinner," Brittany said, walking around the couch and picking her purse up from the coffee table. "Tanaka tagged my car again, so it's back at the shop."

"So when you left here before, where were you going?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. I just wanted to get out of here."

_And now you want to get out of here again. We've come full circle._

It was written all over her face. She wanted to leave and never come back.

I stood up and took both of her hands in mine.

"Britt, I'm so sorry. If I made you uncomfortable or freaked you out, I just-"

A set of keys rattled in the lock and Brittany quickly dropped my hands. Mercedes walked in, followed by Sam, who looked okay if you ignored the giant lump on the side of his head. Behind them, Quinn waltzed in like she owned the place, followed by some random gay guy with a sweater tied around his neck.

"Mercedes, Sam, you're home," I said stupidly. "I thought you were going to stay overnight for observation."

"The doctor said Sam doesn't have a concussion," Mercedes said, angrily pulling food out of the refrigerator. "I think he got his medical degree out of a cereal box."

"It's okay, babe," he said, gingerly poking his lumpy head. "We can go see another doctor tomorrow if it'll make you feel better."

"We better go see another doctor tomorrow," she muttered, pulling two plates out of the cabinet.

I turned to Quinn, who was inspecting the apartment with her nose turned up in the air.

I frowned. "Lucille."

Brittany and Random Gay both gave me weird looks and I suddenly remembered that I only knew Quinn's first name because I delivered a package to her.

_Smooth move, Ex-Lax._

Quinn just scowled at me. "Santana. I like your apartment. It's… quaint."

I live in an apartment on the main drag of Lima Heights. That shit's not quaint.

From my experience, "quaint" is a word that rich people like to use when they're secretly trying to call you poor and tell you that they think you live in a shack. I've never heard these people use the word "quaint" to describe things that are actually "quaint." Maybe they don't know what it means. Maybe they think _I_ don't know what it means.

_Snooty ass bitch._

Random Gay was freely and obviously ogling Brittany, which was both not okay and really, really weird. Brittany shifted away from his gaze uncomfortably.

_EXCUSE ME, BUT NO. That's not gonna sell your straight act, honey, and it's not gonna fly in this apartment._

"Who the hell are you?" I asked rudely.

"I'm Bryan," he said, introducing himself. "Bryan Ryan."

He was blond and clearly as bougie as Quinn tried to be. Even his face annoyed me. He kinda looked like a ferret.

"Great," I said. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Yeah, what are you doing here, Bryan?" Brittany asked. "I thought you rode with Shelby."

"She had an emergency in the middle of dinner and had to leave," he said, adjusting the knot on his neck sweater. "I was stranded. Quinn offered to give me a ride."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Quinn.

"We need to take him home now," Quinn hissed, stepping away from Bryan.

"I'm all ready to go," Brittany said, holding up her purse.

"Can you text me when you get home?" I whispered so that Quinn wouldn't hear. "Just so I know you got in okay?"

"Sure," she whispered back. "We just have to take Shelby's boyfriend home. He's such a creeper."

_Shelby's boyfriend?_

I eyeballed him, taking in his stance and his yuppie outfit. It was him alright. He looked different with indoor lighting and without his face rearranged.

_I thought I told you to stay out of Lima Heights, dummy._

Bryan winked creepily at me and I glared at him.

_I'm gay, too, moron. You're trying way too hard._

I don't know how Shelby couldn't tell that Bryan was gay. Maybe I just had really great gaydar.

…except for the fact that a few months ago, I would've sworn on Martha Stewart's grave that Brittany was straight, so I guess gaydar isn't a reliable science.

"Britt, come on," Quinn said, clearly uncomfortable with all the girl-on-girl whispering going on.

"Okay, let's go."

I walked them to the door, saying pleasant goodbyes and all that jazz. In another life, in an alternate universe, on another planet, I would've kissed Brittany in front of everyone, but she wasn't ready for that. Even if she was, who knew if she would ever kiss me again now that she saw my secret ability up close and personal?

I sighed as I let the door close, listening to their voices fade as they walked down the hall.

"You know what I could really go for right now?" Not-So-Random Gay asked chipperly. "Dessert.

I caught the door before it closed and left it open a crack.

"Dessert?" Quinn asked. "How do you have room for dessert? You ate your food and Shelby's food!"

I knew what that asshole was trying to do. He was trying to make the trip home last longer so he could perve on Brittany (no sane person would perve on Quinn in her pilgrim clothes with Brittany sitting right there).

"I just have a craving for a Mega Freezie Chug," he said. "They're to die for! You just have to try one!"

Brittany sighed. "Honestly Bryan, I really just want to go home."

_A Mega Freezie Chug? They only sell those at…_

"Zippy Mart has them, it's right up the street," he said. "Just one quick stop and we'll be on our way."

I might not believe in gaydar, but I do believe in other things. Instincts, hunches, intuition, whatever you want to call it. I trust those more than I trust most people.

Add in my lifetime as a devout and practicing skeptic and you can see why my Spidey senses were tingling.

_Who gets beat up coming out of a store at night and wants to go back into that exact same situation? Just to get a damn Freezie Chug? It's a watered down Slushie!_

"Pretty please?" he begged. "I swear we'll be in and out."

For the first and probably last time in my life, I silently wished for Quinn to hold out, to bitch harder, to not give in.

The elevator dinged.

"Fine," Quinn huffed, "but this stupid Icy Chug better be worth it."

It wasn't.

* * *

><p>Hunches are a funny thing.<p>

_You need to go. You need to move now._

They're funny because sometimes you can't really explain to people what you're feeling or why.

_Change first. You need to be incognito._

Maybe you can't explain it because if you tried, it would just be something vague and unhelpful like "I don't know, it's just a hunch."

_Take those, leave that. Hurry up, you're wasting time._

Maybe you can't explain it because it doesn't make any sense.

I pulled Puck's black hoody on and quickly slipped into his sweatpants.

"SANTANA!" Mercedes shouted from the living room.

"Yeah?" I yelled back, clipping David's sunglasses to my collar. I hadn't used them since I pulled them out of the toilet tank with the iPhone, but I needed to be sneaky tonight. Sunglasses at night are the sneakiest. I read it in a book.

"What happened to the couch?"

"It was like that when I got here!" I shoved my feet into black sneakers and pulled my hair back into a ponytail.

I could hear Mercedes saying something to Sam, but I didn't have time to deal with furniture drama. Something bad was about to happen. I could feel it.

I walked quickly into the living room, not even looking in their direction.

"Santana, how did- hey, where are you going?"

I stopped short, deciding whether to explain my hunch or just leave.

"Out."

"Out where? It's almost 1AM!"

"I have to… get a Freezie Chug."

"Like I said, it's almost 1AM!" I could hear Mercedes walking up behind me. "You really need to get a Freezie Chug right now?"

I couldn't think of anything to say. She wasn't going to drop it.

_Damn, should've gone down the fire escape._

"Yes," I said, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. I closed the door behind me, briefly catching a glimpse of Mercedes's worried face and Sam's pissed face.

_No time. Something bad. Something bad is happening._

I skipped the elevators, busting out super speed on the stairs again. As soon as I hit the front step of the building, I pulled my hood up, put my sunglasses on, and charged up.

As I speed-jogged the two blocks between my apartment building and Zippy Mart, I tried to plan.

_I just want to follow them. I just want to make sure they get out of Lima Heights. Maybe I'll follow them to Lima Heights Adjacent, but once they get downtown, I'll feel better. It's just a hunch. It's probably stupid. Bryan Ryan is stupid for wanting to come back here. Everything's gonna be-_

I stopped in front of Zippy Mart. The entire store front was made of large glass windows with thick metal bars on them. You could see the whole store from the sidewalk.

They weren't in there.

_There's no possible way they could've gotten in and out so fast. Maybe Quinn said no to him._

I hurried down the street, but somehow I already knew what I would see. Quinn's (debitched) white Prius was parked far away from the street lights in the exact same spot as Shelby's car had been last time.

This time, there was no internal debate. There was no debate because there was no decision to be made.

It was time to act.

* * *

><p>They were smarter this time. They had a lookout.<p>

Joey, my mouthy moron friend, was back again. He was wearing a black ski mask over his face, but I could tell it was him because both of his hands were heavily bandaged.

It was a good idea to post someone near the edge of the alley because last time, I snuck up on them. The only problem was that it was pitch black. There were no working streetlights nearby and the clouds were covering up the moon. I was standing three inches from this guy's face and he _could not see me_.

The lookout couldn't look out.

I slowly waved my hand in front of him. His head darted left and right, searching the blackness for whatever he sensed was there, but couldn't see. That's the problem with doing all of your dirty business in dark alleys. No one can see you, but you can't see them either.

I had been afraid to walk into the alley charged up because I didn't want my "flashlight" eyes to ruin the element of surprise, but luckily, my aviators seemed to be special. They were blocking all of the light coming from my eyes.

_That's what David meant? Why didn't he just say, "they're for blocking your creepy, glowing eyes from other people"? I would've started wearing them a long time ago if I knew that._

I peered down the alleyway, unable to see much, but definitely able to hear Bryan Ryan getting his ass kicked for the second time. I wanted to get rid of Joey before I did anything else. The last thing I needed was him sneaking up behind me later.

_How do I take him out soundlessly without killing him or making a bunch of noise?_

I did the first thing that popped into my head. I head-butted him as hard as I could.

He barely made a noise as he stumbled backwards. I grabbed him by his shirt collar as he fell and quietly sat him up behind a dumpster.

_One down, and hopefully only three to go._

As I got closer, I could make out shapes in the darkness. Quinn and Brittany were on their knees, facing the other end of the alley with their hands behind their heads.

Bryan Ryan was being pushed around by three guys. I couldn't see them very well, but I could tell that the guys were a lot bigger than the jokers from last time. There was a stocky one, a round one, and a tall one. They all weighed at least two to three times as much as I did.

I was charged up to seven and I was _excited_ to see what kind of damage I could do to these guys. I wanted to hurt anyone that was hurting Brittany.

"We'll give you money, the car, whatever! Just stop!" Quinn yelled. She somehow managed to sound like a condescending bitch, even when she wasn't trying.

"Please just let us go!" Brittany pleaded. My heart broke in half at the sound of her voice. She had to be terrified.

They just laughed at her.

"Maybe we don't want your money," the round one said. He pushed Bryan Ryan from behind. Bryan fell onto the ground and rolled.

The stocky guy picked Bryan up by his collar and hauled him over to Brittany and Quinn.

"Yeah," he chimed in, "maybe we want something else."

_Who the fuck is that guy? I know that voice!_

He forced Bryan Ryan down on his knees next to the girls. Then he walked over and gave Brittany a hard slap on the ass.

"You offering that up, too?"

Brittany started sobbing and I lost my mind.

_That's enough._

They were too busy laughing to see me raise my sunglasses and aim my eyes at the back of one guy's kneecap.

_How about you get on your knees, too?_

_Pow!_

The tall guy screamed and staggered to the side.

"Oh god! I'm hit!"

I decided to shoot him in the other leg for good measure. He fell to his knees, screaming in agony as skin and important leg muscles were probably being melted into a thick, chunky liquid.

Now that my sunglasses were off, it was as bright as day. The three linebacker-muggers were wearing black ski masks and gloves.

"Wh-what's going on?" Bryan Ryan screamed at the top of his lungs. "What's happening?"

I was so distracted by Bryan Ryan's sudden outburst that I didn't notice the huge ass linebacker charging at me. Round Guy slammed into me from behind and we went flying into a pile of garbage. He was the big spoon.

As I jumped up, he pulled my hood. The top slid back, revealing my forehead and hairline before I could grab it and pull it back up. Stocky made a weird gasping noise.

_Shit shit shit, he saw my face!_

"Dude, you're not gonna believe it!" he cried out. "We got us a super hombre!"

…_I guess he only saw my skin and not my face. Asshole._

When I heard him speak again, I was 100% sure that I knew this guy, but I didn't have time to dwell on that because he pulled out a gun and pushed me up against the wall.

"You wanna rumble, Pedro?" he growled, pressing the gun to my temple. He bared his teeth like a wild animal and his projectile spit sprayed all over my face.

One false move and he would blow my brains out. Fortunately for me, I could move a hundred times before he moved once. I slipped out from under him at super speed and got behind him, judo chopping his arm. The gun skittered across the alley floor. I gripped the back of his neck and quickly slammed his head into the wall.

Round, who was still lying in the trash, sprang into action. He yanked on my leg to pull me down. I threw my arms around Stocky's neck for support and swung my other leg out, kicking Round right in the chin.

He went out like a light.

Stocky started to pry my arms off of his neck. I tightened my hold like a boa constrictor, hoping to just choke the guy unconscious so we could get the fuck out of there. I wasn't trying to kill these guys. I just wanted to incapacitate them so we could scurry off into the night.

A shuffling sound behind me caused me to turn my head. It was Tall, the one I blasted in the knees. He crawled across the asphalt, scooping the loose gun up off the ground.

"I've seriously had enough of this shit," he said, raising the gun. He swung it around, pointing it at the back of Brittany's head. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.

He turned his gun slightly to the left and shot Bryan Ryan in the back of the head.

I almost bit my tongue in half trying not to scream. Brittany and Quinn screamed bloody murder, which was fitting because that's what they'd just witnessed.

A split second later, Tall was turning in my direction and aiming the gun at me. Using my upper body strength, I swung Stocky so that his whole body moved in between me and the gun. When the shot rang out, he fell to his knees. I crouched behind him, using him as a shield.

"You shot me, you dick!" Stocky wailed. He let out a painful, shuddering gasp.

"You're blocking my shot, idiot!"

I jumped up from my crouch and kicked Stocky in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

_He should thank me. I wish someone would've knocked _me_ out when I got shot._

"Shit!" Tall yelled, lifting his gun again.

I conjured up a basketball-sized energy ball in my free hand. When he started shooting, I stuck it out in front of me, blocking bullets and causing them to fly in random directions at dangerous angles.

When I heard the telltale click of an empty gun, we both froze.

"Uh-oh."

I didn't run the rest of the way. He couldn't run away and I was exhausted. He begged and pleaded for me not to kill him, but I wasn't even listening. As soon as I reached him, I snatched the empty gun from his hand and brought it down hard on his head, thereby vanquishing the last of my foes.

My shoulders drooped and I let out a long sigh.

_This took way more effort than last time._

Brittany and Quinn were still facing the other way, leaning against each other and sniffling. They didn't know who had won the fight going on behind them. They didn't know if the winner of the fight was another asshole with bad intentions.

But it was me.

I saved Quinn.

I saved Brittany.

Brittany was going to see that I wasn't just some couch-snapping, super strong freak. I was going to be the one that saved her. I was going to be her personal superhero.

I stepped forward to call out to her. Brittany's name was on the tip of my tongue.

The noise behind me made me hesitate and that split second of hesitation changed my life. It changed a lot of people's lives, actually.

If I had been paying attention, I would have seen him standing in the shadows. I walked _right_ past him to get from one end of the alley to the other. In broad daylight, it would've been impossible for him to lurk like that, but in the pitch black darkness, he could stand in that alcove all night and never be noticed.

If the blood hadn't been pounding in my ears, I may have heard the soft hiss of pneumatic pistons and the faint click of meshing gears before he came up behind me. When the sound finally registered in my brain, I spun around.

Just in time for a metal hand to close tightly around my neck.

I couldn't speak. More importantly, I couldn't breathe. I kicked my legs wildly and tried to pry the hand from my throat, but even I could tell that it wasn't made from normal metal. My super strength was doing nothing and I was afraid to use beams on it. I couldn't risk shooting myself in the neck.

I could only struggle in vain as the robotic arm slowly lifted me off the ground until we were eye-to-eye. A small light flickered on inside his suit, lighting up his face.

I'd seen him in the newspaper and on TV, but this was my first time ever seeing him in person. The robotic suit that Himanshu designed usually looked shiny and new in the florescent lighting of a press conference room. Here in the dark, the suit was uninteresting.

The interesting part was the man inside the suit.

He looked young, about my age. His hair was neatly combed and the collar of his clean, white shirt had flipped up on one side. He was even wearing a tie in there. A tiny oscillating fan blew under his chin, causing his stiff, gelled hair to dance in the artificial breeze. My sunglasses were still off, so he kept blinking and shaking his head because of the brightness.

_He looks like a big, sleepy baby._

"Hi," he whispered quietly, too quietly for the crying girls at the end of the alley to hear. "I'm Mr. Finntastic."

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to introduce myself. I pounded against his metal hand with my fist, indicating that I wasn't going to answer because he was choking me to death.

"Oh right, sorry." He chuckled at his own stupidity. "The collar will come off in five minutes, I think. So try to stay alive until then, okay?"

He stared at me again like a dope, waiting for me answer. I slapped his hand again.

"Right, right."

He looked behind me, staring at the disaster in the alley.

"Looks like you did a number on these guys," he said, looking impressed. "Nice work."

I knew the exact second his eyes locked on Brittany and Quinn. He seemed to wake up a little, plastering a wholesome, boy-next-door, shit-eating grin on his face. It was the same one he used on TV.

"I'll take over from here."

The metal collar-fist started to whir and click as it rotated me so that I was facing away from him.

Brittany and Quinn were still huddled together, crying. It had only been about 60 seconds since I pistol whipped Stocky. They didn't even know I was there.

Mr. Finntastic turned his body so that he was facing east and lifted his arm until it pointed almost straight up at the sky.

_Oh shit. Oh shit. No, no, no!_

"Have a nice trip," he whispered. "It was really nice to meet you."

Then he blasted me off into space.

* * *

><p>I've flown with David. I've flown with Puck. I've flown with Jet Blue, American, United, and Continental.<p>

This was not flying. This was being violently catapulted across Ohio.

The cold night air whipped past me as I flailed uselessly in the sky. The collar was still clamped tight around my neck, but in my mind I was screaming for my life. I was shooting East at breakneck speeds, just barely clearing buildings as I tried hopelessly to find some way to stop my body from moving. To top it all off, I was going to black out because I couldn't breathe.

_Charge up more and break this thing! You're not going to last five minutes!_

I never voluntarily charged up above seven. It usually seemed to be enough for what I needed and it took a lot of effort to even be able to handle that much.

_Desperate times call for desperate measures._

…_8 …9._

My limbs shook violently, but there was nothing I could do to stop the tremors. I tugged at the collar again. It protested loudly as metal pieces screeched against each other, but loosened up enough so that my airflow wasn't completely cut off.

With my precious oxygen partially restored, I tended to my other problem. I had reached the peak of my trajectory over Lima Heights Adjacent and I was going to hit the ground somewhere in the downtown area.

I had no idea how the hell I was going to land.

_Get your shit together, Lopez. It's go time._

I was coming down over one of the main roads, not too far from where I saved Alexander from his playdate with a Mack truck. It was a three lane, one-way street, but the buildings were much taller in this area. Mr. Finntastic had great aim. I was gonna come down in the middle of an intersection. There weren't many cars on the road because it was late, so at least I had that going for me.

_Ok, charge up your legs for strength so they don't break when you land. Bend your knees. Tuck and roll. Or is it stop, drop, and roll? Tootsie roll? Egg roll? Won ton soup?_

The ground was approaching fast. I was ready to do what I needed to do.

_Shit, here it comes!_

As I charged up my legs, something odd happened.

Seconds before I was going land, the soles of my feet began to tingle. I focused all the remaining energy in my body down through my legs in one big push, attempting to use my super strength to land without breaking all of my bones.

As soon as my feet touched the ground, all of that energy discharged itself with the force of a small bomb. Huge white beams of light blasted out of my feet, launching me back into the air like a rocket.

Residents of the downtown area later reported hearing "WHAT THE FUUUUUUUU-" being screamed in the distance around that time. That was me.

The force of these newly discovered foot beams propelled me back into the sky. My legs whipped around like limp noodles, causing me to careen dangerously close to skyscrapers.

Residents of the downtown area also reported hearing "HOLY SHIT I'M GONNA DIE," but there's no real proof that I ever said that.

_Get your legs under control or you're gonna crash!_

I tightened my muscles, slowly powering down so that the tremors in my legs would stop.

_9… 8… 7… 6…_

As the beams got less intense, my leg control came back. And slowly but surely, I figured out what I was doing. I found that if I angled my feet, I could actually steer myself around the buildings and change my altitude instead of flailing like a muppet. If I stood straight up, I could hover.

_This_ was flying.

Thirty minutes later, I had slowly and carefully steered myself back to Lima Heights. As I flew high over the infamous dark alley, I saw the flashing lights of squad cars. There were about ten of them blocking the street.

_Brittany._

It suddenly occurred to me that I didn't know whether Brittany and Quinn were okay or not.

I hovered above the roof of my apartment building, gently bringing myself down onto the graveled roof. As quickly as I could, I rushed down the fire escape and crawled into the apartment through my bedroom window. I ditched the hoody, the sunglasses, and would've taken off my shoes, but apparently, sneakers don't really hold up very well when you decide to blast lasers out of your feet. The only thing left of them was the shredded material hanging around my ankles.

I changed back into what I was wearing earlier, raced downstairs, and sprinted down the street. Everyone and their mother was standing outside because this was highly unusual. Usually only one cop car showed up when someone was killed, so by Lima Heights Logic, ten people must have been dead somewhere.

Everything past Zippy Mart was roped off with caution tape. I looked around for people I knew, but it was hard to see through the crowd. The Rosenbaums were talking with Uncle Zippy, saying old people things like "what is the world coming to" and "kids these days are so this and that" and "back in my day we never."

I pushed my way through, finally making it to the front. Mercedes and Sam stood on the crowd side of the caution tape, while Brittany stood on the crime scene side, wiping her eyes and taking deep shuddering breaths.

"Santana?" she said, sounding so pitiful and broken that it made my heart sink in my chest. I stepped towards her and she threw her arms me, burying her face into my neck.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying my best to sound confused. "What happened, B?"

She sobbed incoherently into my neck, and that was okay because I had more than enough details stored in my brain. I rubbed her back and cooed softly in her ear that everything was gonna be just "fine."

_I'm really starting to hate that word._

I could feel Mercedes's eyes boring into the side of my head.

"Where did you go?" she hissed. "We've been looking all over for you!"

"I went to get a snack," I said nonchalantly. "Forgot my phone."

"I thought you were just going to Zippy Mart! What took you so long?"

"It's nice out," I said, avoiding her eyes. "I thought I'd take a walk."

"You thought-" She stopped talking and just shook her head.

I grew up in Lima Heights. You don't "take a walk" at night. That's how you end up like Bryan Ryan.

"Take care of Brittany now," she said in a low voice so that Brittany couldn't hear. "I'm going to take care of _you_ later."

_Uh-oh. You're in trouble._

I gulped. I did not want to deal with Angry Mercedes, but it appeared I didn't have any choice in the matter.

I was more focused on Brittany right now. She'd been manhandled by those jerks in the alley. She'd watched Bryan Ryan die. And who knows what happened before I got there?

I gave Brittany a tight squeeze and discretely kissed her on the cheek. "You're gonna be okay, B. They're gonna lock those assholes up and throw away the key, alright?"

She pulled back from my embrace and gave me a watery grin.

"I know," she said, her voice hoarse from crying. "I'm so glad Mr. Finntastic showed up and saved us. I don't even want to think about what would've happened if he didn't."

_He… he… he…_

I couldn't even process her statement in my head.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, just knowing that I'd heard wrong.

She let go of me and pointed at Mr. Finntastic, who had a gassy baby grin on his face. He was standing by a squad car, talking to Quinn and Head Pig Tanaka. Quinn hung on Finntastic's robot arm, looking up at him like the sun shone out of his ass. They were all smiling at each other. Anyone passing by would think that they were old friends catching up.

"Mr. Finntastic," Brittany said.

"Mr. Finntastic," I repeated numbly.

She leaned in close and with all the reverent wonder that people reserved for God and Steve Jobs, she whispered, "San, he _saved_ us."

Something deep inside me broke then.

I don't know what it was. It wasn't something important like my soul or my mind. Maybe it was a little piece of my heart. I don't know. It just broke and I physically felt it happen.

_I did it. It was me. He didn't do anything. He didn't even _help.

"San?" Brittany frowned, concern showing on her face. "What's wrong?"

Forcing a smile onto my face was somehow harder than forcing bullets out of my chest, but I did it. I wrapped my arms around her again.

"Nothing, I'm just glad you're okay," I whispered because I couldn't say what I wanted to say.

I_ saved you, not him._

_I want you to look at _me_ like that, not the way you looked at me after I broke the couch._

_I want to be good enough for you._

As I held Brittany and tried not to cry, I looked over her shoulder at Finntastic. He was still chatting with Quinn, smiling and nodding at whatever she was saying. Some random cop came up and handed him a bottle of water. He had his helmet off.

He wasn't even fucking _sweating_.

I don't think I've ever hated anyone more than I hated him in that moment. Not Quinn, not Kurt, not my stepdad. I hated him and I wanted to tell anyone who would listen that he was a fraud. But exposing Finntastic would mean exposing myself. So I was left there to seethe and rage on the inside while he took credit for my hard work.

Everyone thought he was great because of something _I _did, but _I_ was still a West Lima Loser.

No.

_He_ was the loser. _I_ was the one that was better than _him._

And I was gonna prove it.

* * *

><p>I don't like to talk too much about the early days. When I get interviewed, I usually give some vague, starry-eyed, American Dream answer because that's the kind of stuff that people really want to hear. The President told me that. Called me up and said my interviews were "too depressing."<p>

It's because people don't want to hear the truth. I don't blame them. The truth sucks sometimes. It hurts and it makes people feel bad. But there's value to knowing and seeking it, even if it gives you a headache or scares you or tells you the sky is red.

So when they ask me, "why did you become a superhero?" I tell them the same things I told Ben that night. That I wanted to do good things. That I wanted to help people with my abilities. Heal the world, make it a better place, etc.

What I don't tell them is the simple truth:

It started off as a pissing contest.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I'm not sure if I should put warnings up every time someone is going to die. I'd rather not because it spoils it, but I don't want people to… I don't know, get surprised and vomit? (What's wrong with me, really?) If you feel strongly about this either way, PM/tumblr me.

The scene in the alley with Finntastic:

a) creeped the fuck out of me when I was writing it. I was writing in the dark and I looked over my shoulder several times, waiting for him to pop-up and strangle me.

b) was the first idea I ever had for this fic. Fucking Super Fun Fact: this fic was originally going to be a remake of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog, with Santana as Dr. Horrible (but a superhero version), Brittany as Penny, and Finntastic as Captain Hammer. Unfortunately, that would involve Brittany/Finn, which I had no interest in writing and if you know how DHSAB ends… yeah, didn't want to write that, either. So the only thing that remains the same is the fact that Brittany thinks Finn saved her, but it was really Santana.

Until next time!  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	11. Nightmares and Knightmares

**A/N:** This chapter is beyond late. Sorry, guys. It gets a little cray over here from time to time and the result is always fail.

Let's get down to business. You've waited long enough.

Recap: so last chapter, Ben told Santana all about the McKinley project and how Artie is a douche. Tina came over and Brittany got jealous. Ziggles's head and body were reunited. Brittany and Santana got their sweet lady kisses on and Santana broke the couch. Samcedes returned from the hospital. Quinn and Bryan Ryan showed up. Santana had a hunch. Bryan Ryan got murked by some straight-up bustas. Mr. Finntastic magically appeared and "saved the day." Santana learned to fly. Everybody loves Finn. No one got a Freezie Chug.

And that's what you missed on Fucking Super!

Song in this chapter:  
>-"Pac-Man Fever" by Buckner &amp; Garcia, straight from Santana and Brittany's Infinite Playlist XD<p>

Disclaimer: Fox/RIB owns Glee. Songs are owned by their artists/writers/owners.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11: Nightmares and Knightmares<strong>

Christopher Finnegan Hudson. Son of Christopher and Carol Hudson. 27 years old.

_Two-hundred and ninety seven._

Lima, Ohio native. Former football superstar. Prom King.

_Two-hundred and ninety eight._

Ohio State alumnus. Lima Police Academy graduate, Class of 2010. Valedictorian.

_Two-hundred and ninety nine._

Scum of the earth. Dirty, rotten liar. Fucking fraud.

_Three hundred._

I reset my push-up position, glaring at the picture on the glowing screen of my phone. It was from the front page of the Sunday evening edition of the Lima Times. Fraud Hudson with his arms around Brittany and Quinn.

It made me want to hurl.

_One more. Come on, Lopez._

Dripping in sweat, I lowered my body to the gravel, making sure to keep eye contact with Mr. Fraudtastic the entire time.

"Fuck you," I whispered to the picture.

_3._

I launched my body upward, forcing energy out of my hands and feet in controlled streams until I was hovering three feet in the air. I was a human table with energy beam legs.

_Hold it._

It took a tremendous amount of effort, but I forced myself to hold the position until I was completely stable. Then, with a long exhale, I slowly lowered myself to the ground like a landing hovercraft.

_Three hundred and one. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Hudson._

I collapsed in a heap, completely and utterly exhausted. It had only been a few days since Finntastic had popped out of the darkness of a Lima Heights alley and launched me into the Milky Way, but I spent every second of those days preparing.

I gathered every piece of information I could find on Finn, every news story, every video clip, every image. I may have even trolled a message board dedicated to him, posting under the username finnhudsonwetsthebed123, but that could have been anyone.

Every night after Mercedes left for Ladies Night, I went to the top of the tallest building in Lima and did 1000 Speed Laps around the roof, 300 Hover-Ups, 25 Flying Laps around Lima, and the Thing With the Skittles.

I was preparing for something. I just didn't know what yet.

_How do you convince people that you're better than someone else?_

I shook the thought out of my head. I was too tired for another unsuccessful round of revenge planning. I could worry about the specifics later.

_Alright, no time for slacking. Flight laps. Go._

I wiped my sweaty face on my shirt, giving myself a few seconds to breathe. Satisfied that I wasn't going to pass out and die mid-flight, I briskly jogged across the roof, hopped onto the ledge, and jumped off of a seventy-five story building into the waiting night sky.

* * *

><p>Every area of Lima had one thing in common, whether you lived in Beaumont (a neighborhood that made Beverly Hills look like Lima Heights) or in the West End (a neighborhood that made Lima Heights look like Beverly Hills).<p>

In every single neighborhood, the freaks came out at night.

Take, for example, the elderly couple in Beaumont who liked to strip down to their birthday suits and moonbathe on their deck. I was almost positive that they were both women, but there was too much deceptive skin sag going on for me to tell.

And downtown, there were two assholes who got down and dirty in the rooftop pool at the Hilton every night. I considered leaving an anonymous note at the front desk about the semen-tainted pool water, but then I just decided to never, ever stay at that hotel and my conscience was satisfied.

My favorite stop on my people-watching tour was a penthouse condo in Rockmore where a prominent Lima banker enjoyed being spanked by his mistress on the balcony with a riding crop. I was on my way to see what kinky hijinks they were getting up to that evening when a flash of light caught my eye. I slowed down, searching the skies for the source of the flash. I saw it again, a brief blink of green light, followed almost immediately by a flash of yellow and a flash of red. The nosy part of me was intrigued.

_Rooftop rave? This is new. I guess Madame Seductra and her pet are gonna have to take a rain check._

I swooped lower to get a better look. As I got closer, it became very apparent that it wasn't a rooftop rave at all. The circular lights were coming from the roof of another condo, jittering back and forth as the light wielder moved. For one crazy second, I thought there might be another weirdo like me out there, practicing their freakish skills for a showdown with a robot policeman.

The sound of rubber repeatedly bouncing off of hard plastic reached my ears, perfectly timed with the flashing lights. When I realized what I was looking at, I almost burst out laughing.

Someone was playing paddle ball down there.

It was almost 2AM and someone was on their roof, playing paddle ball. With three light-up paddles. At once.

_The only thing that could make this better is nudity._

"I got all the patterns down up until the ninth key…"

Faintly, above the wind and the popping of the paddle balls, I could hear someone singing. It only took a few bars for me to figure out who the mysterious night-time paddler was.

"I got Speedy on my tail and I know it's either him or me…"

_Brittany? No fucking way._

"So I'm heading out the back door and in the other side…"

I've heard Brittany sing before, but this wasn't the slurry, slightly tipsy singing she did on particularly "festive" nights at the bar. This was bluesy and soulful. It was honky-tonk with a double dash of sass.

"Gonna eat the cherries up and take 'em all for a ride!" she sang, throwing her head from side to side as she skillfully handled the three paddles. The green and yellow paddles were in her hands, her wrists flicking them back and forth furiously. I lowered my gaze slightly and my mouth dropped open.

_Holy Mother Goose._

The red paddle was attached to Brittany's waist with some special paddle ball belt. It wasn't going as fast as the other two paddles, just lazily keeping the beat of the song that was blaring out of her headphones.

Do you know how you play paddle ball when the paddle is attached to your waist?

You hump the air. That's how.

"I've got Pac-Man fever! It's driving me crazy!"

My eyes locked onto the waist paddle, mesmerized by the flashing red light and the smooth undulation of Brittany's hips. I circled overhead like a drunk, pervy vulture. I didn't know if I should fly away to some dark corner and berate myself for watching her or land on the roof and ask her to start the song over.

_This is obscene and explicit and I need it to happen on my face._

"I've got Pac-Man fever! I'm going out of my mind!"

I was so spellbound by the flick of the paddle and her powerful, rolling thrusts that I didn't realize I was flying too low. By the time I did, it was too late.

"I've got Pac-Man fever! I'm going-"

The rooftop stairwell was directly behind Brittany and I smashed into it headfirst. The metal door bent and popped open under the force of the impact and I fell inside with a crash. Brittany's singing abruptly stopped and seconds later, the music cut off. Her feet shuffled against the gravel as I pulled myself up onto all fours with a groan.

"W-who's there?" Brittany called out.

I froze for a second, wondering what I should do.

_Stop being so friggin' nosy, for starters._

"Who's there?" she called again, louder this time. "I have mace! And a mace! I have a mace!"

I didn't want to just run off. It would probably freak her out and she would be stuck on the roof all night, waiting for some creepy psycho to pop out of the stairwell and stab her. I had to reveal myself.

_Fuck. How am I going to explain this?_

I stood up slowly, putting my hands up in front of me to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"It's me, Santana!" I stepped out onto the roof and she took a step back, squinting to see if I really was who I said I was.

I was.

"Oh my god," she said, putting her hand over her heart and closing her eyes. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to." I walked closer to her, leaving my hands up.

She kept her eyes closed, trying to calm her shallow breathing. My dirty, filthy eyes dropped down to her waist paddle, but her hips were now still.

"What are you doing up here?" I asked.

She opened her eyes and looked at me like I was on crack.

"I live here," she said. She followed my gaze and when she realized what I was staring at, she yanked the paddle out of its weird waist holder and shoved it into her waistband. "What are _you_ doing here?"

_Yeah, what _are_ you doing here?_

"I wanted to come by and check on you," I said. It wasn't exactly a lie. I had wanted to check on her for days, but ignored phone calls are usually a pretty good indication that you shouldn't drop in for a visit. "Nobody answered the door so I thought I'd try up here."

"Why did you think that I'd be on the roof?" she asked.

_Deflect._

"Why _are_ you on the roof?"

_Nicely done!_

"Why aren't you wearing any shoes?"

_Oh, she's got you there._

"I, uh, left in a rush," I said. "You haven't been returning my calls and I was worried."

She sighed. "I should've called you back. I really wanted to see you, honestly. It's just… there's a lot going on right now."

"Let's go inside so we can talk," I suggested. "It's freezing."

She shook her head furiously. "Nope, I'm staying out here."

"Britt, it's 2AM. Do you really have to play paddle ball right now?" I asked.

After a moment's hesitation, she answered. "I'm trying to stay awake."

"Awake?"

"Awake," she said. She tucked the yellow paddle into her waistband next to the red one and began to play with the green one, flicking her wrist and starting a new game. "I can paddle all night if I have to."

I closed the distance between us and grabbed her wrist gently, stopping the incessant thwacking of the rubber ball. "Why would you want to paddle all night?"

She locked eyes with me momentarily before dropping my gaze.

"Because if I stay awake, I won't have any nightmares," she said quietly.

"You mean you do this every night?" I asked in disbelief.

"Not this, but something."

"And when's the last time you got some real sleep?"

She looked off to the side, lips pressed together tightly.

"Britt-" I started.

"Don't," she said, putting up her hand. "I don't want to hear it from you, too."

"If you're having trouble sleeping, maybe a doctor can prescribe something for you," I said, ignoring her.

"I don't want sleeping pills," she said.

"And your nightmares… maybe a psychiatrist-"

"San. It's fine," she insisted.

"No, it's not," I said. "Not sleeping is not fine. That's what you said to me, anyway."

She tugged her wrist back gently, but instead of pulling it out of my grip like I expected, she wrapped her other hand around mine. It looked like we were both going to help her play paddle ball.

She gave me a pointed look. "I know what I said."

"So don't tell me you're fine if you're not fine," I replied.

"I could say the same thing to you," she shot back.

"My situation is different."

"How?"

_I can't sleep because I've been dipped in hazardous chemicals. I tell you I'm fine because it's the only thing I _can_ tell you._

"…it just is."

She rolled her eyes. "Santana, you can't tell me I need to sleep if you don't sleep and you can't tell me to go to a doctor if you won't even go yourself."

This time she did pull her wrist out of my hand. She took a few steps away, clearly feeling agitated. The green paddle ball started up again, beating out a rhythm of pure frustration.

"I know I need to sleep," she said. "I get it. But right now, that's just not gonna happen. Not the way it's supposed to. Half the time, sleeping's even worse that being exhausted! I don't need everyone getting on my case about it."

Clearly, I had pushed a button that had already been pushed one too many times.

I reached out to her, but she was pacing. "I'm s-"

"Do you know Quinn told me that she thinks I have PTSD? _Quinn_!" she said, snorting indignantly. "Quinn, who can't leave Finn's side. Quinn, who's already worked fifty hours this week and it's only _Wednesday_. But _I'm_ the one with the problem? Okay."

"Hey," I said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to help."

She nodded in acknowledgement of my apology, but continued to pace and paddle. After a few minutes, her shoulders relaxed a little and she stopped moving. She waited until she caught my eye before speaking.

"The paddling is helping. It makes me tired and I can pass out for a while without thinking too much about having a nightmare. So this is what I'm going to do. Okay?"

She wasn't asking for my permission. She was asking me to respect her decision. I could do that. I nodded and she closed her eyes, letting a deep breath leave her lungs and a small smile cross her face. Before she could open her eyes again, I wrapped my arms around her waist and rested my head on her shoulder.

"If it works for you, then it works for me," I said. "But no more ignoring my phone calls. Don't shut me out."

"I won't," she said. "I've just been feeling overwhelmed and I didn't want to end up taking it out on you."

"You can take it out on me if you need to. I can take it."

_May I suggest a spanking with a plastic paddle, Mistress Pierce? I don't care what you do with the rubber ball, but I do have some suggestions._

"I'm sure you can," she said. "You're pretty strong."

I froze in her arms and an ice cold wave of terror washed down my back.

"S-strong? I, uh… what?"

_Please don't be talking about what I think you're talking about._

"You're strong," she said, speaking directly into my ear. "A lot of people couldn't have handled what you went through."

"Oh," I breathed out, relieved.

My relief was short-lived.

"You're strong in other ways, too. That stairwell has a steel door and I always lock it when I come up here. You busted it open like nothing."

She hadn't actually seen me do that, but the door was hanging wildly from one hinge and had a huge crack in it. My breathing picked up and I was starting to sweat.

"And you destroyed your couch," she added. "That's a tough thing to do and I know you were… excited, but still. You're really strong, San."

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to tell her she was crazy, but with all the chaos that was going on in her head, I couldn't bring myself to add to it.

"It's kind of a new thing," I whispered "I didn't want anyone to know."

She pulled her head back, giving me an odd smile. "Why not?"

I pressed my face against her shoulder, unable to look at her. "Because I could hurt someone. It's really hard to control, so sometimes I have accidents. Like the couch thing."

She let out a quick exhale, shaking her head. "I'm sure I wasn't helping. I shouldn't have bit you."

I shrugged. "You didn't know that I would spaz out like that. Hell, I didn't even know. I just have to be extra careful. If I hurt you, I don't think I would be able to forgive myself."

"Don't worry," she whispered. "I can help you. 'Careful' is my middle name."

"I guess the 'S' is silent?" I laughed softly.

"It's a Dutch thing."

I smiled, holding her tightly as the wind whipped around us. She was taking this news really, really well. Better than I expected.

"So you're really not freaked out about this?" I asked, just to make sure. "You don't think it's weird or scary?"

"I was a little bit freaked out at first," she admitted, "but now I just wish I was that strong. Maybe I could protect myself a little better."

I kissed her gently below her ear. "I'm gonna protect you. Nobody's gonna hurt you ever again, okay?"

"Okay," she said, smiling against my cheek. She released me from our embrace, reaching down to grab my hand. "Come on, I think I've had enough of the roof for tonight. It's cold up here when I'm not paddling."

I squeezed her hand, grinning back at her. "Lead the way."

She led me to the stairwell, through the cracked and battered door, and into the building.

* * *

><p>Rockmore was a swanky neighborhood by definition, but the condo that Brittany, Rachel, and Hateful Bitch lived in could only be described as "baller."<p>

I followed Brittany through the dark living room, which was full of expensive furniture. The TV was larger than my entire apartment and the carpet was so plush, it felt like quicksand.

"Nice place," I said, looking around at everything.

"It looks even better with the lights on," she said in a hushed voice. She pointed at a door on the other side of the room. "Quinn and Finn are still up. We have to be quiet. I don't think she'd be happy if she found out you were here."

"Why are they awake?" I asked.

My question was immediately answered as a loud moan echoed through the living room. If I had to put a name to the sound, it would either be "Slow and Painful Zombie Death" or "Moose Abuse." This low, rumbling, auditory horror was followed by some of the fakest female arousal noises I've ever heard in my life. That's quite an accomplishment because I've worked closely with strippers and watched a lot of poorly-acted lesbian porn.

"Oh dear god," I muttered, shaking my head. "Don't _they_ have to be quiet, too?"

"It's been like this every night," Brittany huffed. "Rachel refuses to be in the house when Finn sleeps over, which is like, every night. She said she's going to leave them a strongly-worded letter about… what did she call it? 'The inconsiderate volume of their sexual congress.'"

"She should write it on a sticky note," I suggested. "That always gets my attention."

We turned down a dark hallway, walking away from Quinn's theatrical whines. Pointing to the different doors, Brittany explained what each one was.

"That's the guest bathroom. That Rachel's bedroom, she gets the master." She pointed to the door next to her. "And this is my room."

She opened the door and stepped back, giving me space to enter.

It was bright inside. All of the lights were on, including the lights from the walk-in closet and the bathroom. In the brightness, I could finally see Brittany clearly. Her pajama pants were about two inches too short and her t-shirt said "B104.7's Annual Charity Chili Cook-Off" on the front. Her socks were pink with black stripes. She was the definition of cuteness.

The bright lights also showed me the large bags under her eyes. I frowned, realizing how tired she must be. I didn't realize I was staring until she cleared her throat.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, attempting to distract from my awkwardness.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"I'm gonna get a glass of water," she said, walking back toward the hall. "I'll be right back. Make yourself at home."

I watched her walk out into the hall before giving myself a brief standing tour of the room. Brittany's walls were painted the same pale green as her ducky pants, except for her largest wall which was covered entirely in photographs. They were all different shapes and sizes. Some were black and white, some were in color, others had that weird sepia effect. I walked over to the photo wall, carefully inspecting the pictures there.

Brittany was incapable of taking a bad picture. Every picture was beautifully done and each one told its own little story. Whenever I looked at her work, I always felt like she was sharing something special with me and only me, even if it was on the front page of the newspaper for all of Lima to see.

Brittany came back and closed the door behind her. She walked over and stood next to me, watching as I admired a picture of a bald man playing paddle ball with both hands and having the time of his life. There appeared to be no pelvic activity going on and for this, I was grateful.

"This is incredible, B," I said, pointing at the pictures.

"Thanks," she said, looking a little embarrassed. "I don't put them up to show off or anything like that. I just like to look at them and remember good times. Sometimes, I forget they're even here until I want to put up a new one."

"How often do you do that?" I asked, spying a particularly well-done picture of Quinn and Rachel. Rachel was leaning against a trash can, seconds away from vomiting. Quinn was nearby, sitting on a bench with her face in her hands. In the background, a giant rollercoaster loomed over them, clearly the cause of their misery. The picture was epic and I wanted to blow it up and frame it.

"Whenever I take a new picture that I really like," she said with a shrug. "This is the newest one."

She pointed at the large, glossy print and I frowned. It was Finntastic in his shiny robot suit. He was smiling down at Brittany's camera, flashing his pearly whites and looking exactly how the hero of Lima should look. Like Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark.

_Who are you supposed to be? Peter Parker?_

"Finn's really cool," she said as I resisted the urge to vaporize the picture with my eyes. "He's always here, watching out for us. He even takes us to and from work, so always we're safe."

_3._

I clenched my teeth together and closed my eyes, bracing myself for the wave of burning hatred and anger that was washing over me.

_While she was blowing you off, he's been over here doing photoshoots._

"Santana?" Brittany put her hand on my shoulder, waiting for me to open my eyes.

"Yes?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"You're mad." It wasn't a question.

"I'm not mad."

She didn't answer. She just set her water glass on her desk and slid her cool hand up my neck, cupping my jaw and making small circles on my cheek with her thumb until I relaxed my muscles. She left her hand there, stroking my face softly.

"Better?"

I nodded, even though it wasn't better and wouldn't be better until that moaning metal moose got what was coming to him.

_Stop making this about you. Brittany needs you, now be there for her._

I powered down and opened my eyes.

"It's nothing," I lied. "I just get cranky at this time of night."

She patted my cheek and let her hand fall to my shoulder. "Happens to the best of us."

I breathed deeply, ready to break the unnecessary tension that I caused. "So what do you normally do when you come inside from the roof?"

She shrugged. "We could watch whatever's on my DVR. I've been trying to clean it out, but I just can't stop recording things. I'm a TV hoarder."

"Whatcha got?"

"Well, Spiderman was on a few nights ago. My sister didn't want to watch it, so I recorded it for later. Do you want watch that?"

I smiled, laughing a little to myself.

_Score one for Peter Fucking Parker._

* * *

><p>Despite her best efforts to stay awake, Brittany fell asleep during the opening credits, snuggled into my side and snoring gently. The poor girl looked exhausted. Part of me was secretly thrilled that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep because I was there, watching over her. Other parts of me were more skeptical.<p>

_Don't get a big head, Lopez. She's running on fumes. She's going to pass out from time to time._

I shook off the annoying voice, leaning over to kiss Brittany's forehead. The corner of her mouth quirked up the slightest bit and she relaxed further against me, sleepily mumbling something about green sheep. As gently as possible, I trailed my fingertips up and down the soft skin of her forearm, drawing arbitrary patterns as I went.

"You're safe," I whispered into her hair. "You're safe right here with me. I've got you."

She let out a contented sigh and burrowed further into my side.

Shortly after Peter Parker killed that sleazy guy with the bad dye job, an extremely loud commercial came on and I had to quickly turn the TV down so that Brittany wouldn't wake up. The hard, unyielding face of Vice President Sue Sylvester appeared, filling up the entire screen.

My feelings on the Vice President were mixed. I didn't agree with her on a lot of issues, but I found her stage presence absolutely fascinating. In a poll taken shortly after the election, Sue Sylvester was voted "Scariest Vice President in the History of the United States." That's pretty impressive considering the fact that Aaron Burr fucking _murdered_ a guy and Dick Cheney "accidently" shot someone in the face. I'm pretty sure Vice President Sylvester and President Howell were elected based on fear alone.

She was wearing what could only be called a "formal tracksuit."

"Will Schuester wants to be the next president of the United States of America," she began in that no-nonsense tone that could make grown men weep. "He wants to do for America what he's done for his city, Lima, Ohio. So what has the so-called 'Billionaire Mayor' been up to lately? What policies have been enacted under his watch? What about city services? Has Mayor Schuster done anything in Lima?"

A picture of Mayor Schuester suddenly appeared on the screen. Dollar bills were raining down on his head while his computer-animated body did the Macarena. For some reason, footage of a nuclear weapon being detonated was playing in the background.

"He's been spending your tax dollars on lavish vacations for his cronies and large quantities of napalm to exterminate the homeless Ewoks who've taken refuge in his hair."

My eyes narrowed as the picture changed from the dancing mayor to Finn's ugly mug. He was wearing his robot suit and grinning like a moron.

"Mayor Schuester recently purchased this half-human, half-toaster oven, Mr. Finntastic, to protect the streets of his fair city. This monstrosity is rumored to be a direct descendent of the motorized butter churn that claimed the life of a young and careless Martha Washington."

I snorted into my hand.

_I hope he can hear this through the wall._

"America, is this really the man you want in the White House? A vote for Will Schuester is a vote for wasteful government spending and a future where toaster ovens rise up against the human race in rebellion."

Sue Sylvester ended the commercial in front of a large American flag and a picture of President Carl Howell and his bush baby wife, Emma Pillsbury-Howell.

"I'm Vice President Sue Sylvester, all human, and I urge you to re-elect President Carl Howell, a man who, to my knowledge, has never harmed an Ewok."

Across the bottom of the screen the words "This ad is paid for by Mudslingers for President Howell" scrolled by in white, blocky text.

The commercial ended and cut back to the movie, but it had already gotten the wheels turning in my head.

_How do you convince people that you're better than someone else?_

It seemed that what I needed was a platform.

* * *

><p>The TV was still on when I woke up.<p>

Barely breaking the cusp of consciousness, I tightened my arms around the warm, soft mass that was huddled against me.

Brittany yawned and giggled softly. "You're like a dryer sheet when you wake up."

"Sorry," I muttered, making no move to untangle myself. I couldn't help it. If there was a body in bed with me, I had to snuggle it. I buried my face into what turned out to be Brittany's back, luckily. The mood wasn't quite right for an early morning booby nuzzle.

"It's okay." She stretched, causing her long, lean body to slide against me.

_1._

"Did you sleep well?" I asked as I tried to ignore the feeling of her muscles tightening and releasing.

She made a satisfied post-stretch noise that somehow managed to sound more sexual than any of Quinn's moans. She turned in my arms to look at me.

"Best sleep ever," she whispered. She turned her head and kissed me on the tip of my nose. "Thank you."

_2._

The dopiest of all dopey grins stretched across my face and I didn't even know what to do with myself.

Someone banged on the door with the force of a thousand sledgehammers. Brittany leapt out of my arms and off of the bed, falling to the floor in a heap of sheets. I jumped up, running over to the other side of the bed to help her up. The door swung open and Judy Fabray appeared in the doorway, holding a basket of muffins.

"Brittany! Wake up, it's-" She stopped, looking back and forth from me to the disheveled Brittany. "Is everything alright, dear?"

"Yup!" Brittany said way too loudly, popping up from the floor and stumbling to the side.

Judy gave her a strange look before turning to me and smiling. "Well, I didn't know we were having guests this morning! I would have made more muffins. It's Santana, correct?"

I nodded, unable to produce words that would fit this particular situation.

"Let's get a move on, ladies," Judy said chipperly. "We don't want breakfast to get cold!"

She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Brittany collapsed on the bed, face first.

"Are you okay?" I asked, gently poking her shoulder blade.

"I think I'm having a heart attack," she said into the comforter.

I prodded her shoulder until she rolled over onto her back. "It's a good thing you fell, er, jumped off the bed when you did."

She closed her eyes, still trying to catch her breath. "They keep showing up unannounced. I never know when-"

The door swung open and Judy's head popped back in.

"Santana, I forgot to ask: are you a _vegan_?"

The way she said it, you would've thought she was asking if I drank out of the toilet.

"No, ma'am," I replied, shaking my head for emphasis. "I love meat."

_The International Council of Super Lesbians is going to revoke my membership if they ever find out about this._

"Ok, great!" She smiled and slipped out of the door, closing it again.

Brittany sighed. "See what I mean? They just pop up all the time and I love that they care, but they're driving me nuts."

She sat up on the bed and ran her hand through her hair. "Come on. We have to get down there before Quinn eats all the bacon. I'd hate to keep you from your meat."

"Britt, I really should get going," I said. I didn't work on Thursdays and Fridays, but that didn't mean I wanted to break bread with Fabrays.

"It's too late, Judy saw you. She's going to hound you to death until you come to the table."

"But I-"

"Please don't leave me alone with them," she pleaded. "They're driving me nuts. You don't have to stay for long. One pancake, that's all I'm asking. Just don't leave yet."

I opened my mouth to decline again, but she turned her adora-pout on me and all of my freewill disappeared into the ether.

* * *

><p>There were entirely too many people in the kitchen.<p>

Judy Fabray was sitting at the table, watching Good Morning America on a fancy kitchen TV. Two blonde cheerleaders with high ponytails were sitting next to her. One was scarfing down muffins while the other nibbled at celery sticks dipped in peanut butter and chatted on the phone. A bald man was standing by the stove, making his oven mitt puppet sing into a grease-covered spatula. He was wearing an apron that said "Spank the Cook."

As we entered the room, he gasped audibly.

"Is that who I think it is?" he asked, letting the wet spatula smack him right over his heart. His voice sounded incredibly familiar, like I'd heard it a billion times before.

"Daddy," Brittany said, "this is Santana-"

"Santana Lopez! As I live and breathe!" he cried. He walked over to me and wrapped me up in a big bear hug, lifting me clear off the ground.

Brittany tapped her father on the shoulder. "Daddy, I think Santana-"

"As I die and suffocate!"

"Dad, I don't-"

"As I resurrect and-"

"Dad!" Brittany shouted, stopping her father's rambling. "No squeezing!"

"Oh right! Where are my manners?" He put me on the ground and brushed invisible dirt off of my arms. Judy sighed loudly from across the room.

"We talked about squeezing friends, remember?" Brittany whispered, irritated. He pouted at her and it was probably the most adorable thing I've ever seen a grown man do.

_She must have gotten that from him._

Brittany wasn't fazed. She mouthed the word "stop" at him and turned back to me, obviously flustered.

"Dad, this is my friend, Santana," she said slowly and carefully, as if trying to undo the last 30 seconds of our interaction. "Santana, this is my dad."

_YOU'RE MEETING HER DAD._

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Pierce," I squeaked out, still struggling to re-inflate my lungs with air. I stuck my hand out to shake his, suppressing the very loud voice in my head that was trying to goad me into freaking out.

He snorted. "Mr. Pierce is my father. Please, call me Mo."

Realization slowly dawned on me. "Hey! You're 'Mo in the Morning!'"

"Actually, I'm Mo all the time," he grinned.

Judy just rolled her eyes. "That joke never gets old, Morris."

Mo shot her a defiant look and turned back to me.

"I can't tell you how wonderful it is to meet you, Santana," he said, smiling warmly. "I'm so glad that you're home and doing well. We were pulling for you. If we could've gotten those lazy cops moving, you probably would've been back twice as fast!"

Judy looked scandalized. "Morris! Why do you always have to bring up the most unpleasant things?"

"What?" he shrugged. "The truth is the truth."

"Well, one of those 'lazy cops' saved Brittany and Quinn!" she countered. "Who knows what could have happened had he not been there?"

"Now who's bringing up unpleasant things?" Mo said, eyebrow raised.

The fact that Mo and Judy were arguing like an old married couple wasn't lost on me.

_Please don't let Brittany be related to the Fabrays. If she is, I'll _never_ be able to get rid of Quinn._

Judy threw up her hands. "Let's stop all of this nonsense and eat! The food is getting cold and the girls are already late for school. Morris, wash that spatula! It probably has cat hair on it now."

She beckoned us to the table and we sat down across from the two teenaged girls. Celery Stick ignored us for the most part, totally engrossed in her phone conversation. The other girl was stuffing her face like it was her last meal on Death Row. They were both wearing Carmel High cheerleading uniforms and the tightest ponytails I've ever seen.

"We're already missing practice, we might as well just skip the whole day," Celery Stick said. The person on the phone must have made a comment because she said, "Oh, shut up. You're just jealous. I hope you ran some extra laps for me. It'll totally help with your cellulite."

"We should skip tomorrow too, family is super important," the other blond chimed in, dipping a hunk of muffin into her milk. She picked up a plate of bacon and offered it to Brittany. "Here, Britt. Baquinn already left for work so we don't have judge her while she eats an entire pig by herself."

"I'm judging _you_ right now," Celery Stick scoffed. "You're going to have to do a lap around the entire planet just to burn this meal off." To her phone buddy, she said, "Mojo is eating like, a whole bakery… I know, right? So inconsiderate… What are you crying about? I'm right under her in the pyramid! She's gonna break my back!"

"Screw you, I'm carbo loading." She popped another chunk of muffin in her mouth and chewed as obnoxiously as she could.

Brittany snatched the bacon plate away, frowning. "Can you _please_ chew with your mouth closed? I can see your food digesting."

She looked at me apologetically. It was pretty cute how embarrassed she was of these people. I thought they were funny.

"My sister was raised in a barn," she muttered. "By wolves."

"Girls, don't be rude," Judy chided, bringing a platter of pancakes over to the table. "Introduce yourselves."

"Frannie Fabray," the girl formerly known as Celery Stick said, giving me a small nod. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "No, I'm not talking to you…. my sister's friend stayed over… Because I wasn't talking to you! Why would I be telling you my name, genius?"

The other one grabbed a pancake, wrapped a few slices of bacon in it, and started eating it like a burrito.

Judy narrowed her eyes. "Young lady, do not test me."

"What? You're supposed to eat it like this!" Under Judy's intense and disapproving stare, she rolled her eyes and gave me a forced smile. "I'm Mojo. Nice to meet you, I guess."

Mojo went back to demolishing her food and Brittany slid a pancake onto my plate. I took a small bite, just to make sure there was no sugar-free weirdness going on. I also slid a few pieces of bacon on my plate before Mojo could inhale them.

Mo sat down with his own plate, which was loaded with unrecognizable fried items.

"How did you sleep last night, Britt-Britt?" he asked, cutting his fried things into bite-sized pieces.

_With me._

Brittany's cheeks turned pink and I knew we were thinking the same thing.

"Great!" Brittany squeaked. "Just great!"

"I'm sure it helped that Santana was here," Mo said.

Brittany's eyes widened as her dad picked up the one thing she didn't want him to mention. Mo popped a bite of food into his mouth, not noticing the subtle freak-out his daughter was having.

_This girl is about as stealthy as a beached whale._

"No, I don't think that was it," she said. "It must be those new CDs that I got. 'Sounds of Nature.' I bought them online."

"You did?"

_She totally didn't._

"Yup, put me right to sleep," Brittany said, beaming proudly at her quick thinking.

Judy leaned forward, folding her hands in front of her on the table. "Sounds of Nature?

That sounds quite relaxing. I'm going to the spa tomorrow and I need something soothing to listen to while I exfoliate. When you get a free moment, can you make some copies?"

"No!" Brittany blurted out.

Judy looked affronted. "Why not?"

"Because… because… Santana scratched them."

"I did what now?" I asked, except I said it with a mouthful of pancake so it sounded like "Ahduhwhanah?"

"You scratched them, remember?" She stared at me meaningfully. "And they don't work anymore so I can't let Judy borrow them. Because they're scratched."

After what must have been the slowest reaction time in the history of spontaneous group lies, I nodded. "…that's right. I scratched them. They're trash now. No good."

"How do scratch a whole set of CDs?" Mojo asked skeptically.

"I have razor sharp nails. It's a curse." To demonstrate and to destroy any shred of dignity I had left, I made a claw with my hand and scratched at the air like a kitty cat.

Brittany didn't even have the decency to keep a straight face. She put her napkin over her mouth and cough-laughed into it while I made an ass of myself for her sake.

"Oh well then," Judy said with a sigh. "We'll have to get you another set so you can sleep."

I decided to steer the conversation into safer territory.

"I love your show, Mo," I said. "I listen to it all the time at work."

Mo smiled. "Really? What do you do?"

_MOTHER EFF. This is safer territory?_

I blinked at him, stalling for time. "What do I…what?"

"What do you do?" he repeated. "For work? What's your trade? Warrior? Mage? Blacksmith? Whitesmith?"

"What the hell's a whitesmith?" Mojo wondered aloud.

Brittany's ears perked up. She'd been trying to find out about my super-secret day job for months.

"Oh you know," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I do a little bit of this and that."

Mo nodded. "I know what you mean. Before I got mixed up in the crazy world of radio, I used to do this, that, and the other. All legal, if anyone asks."

"You should be on the radio right now," Brittany pointed out. "You can't keep ditching work to come here."

"No worries, Britt-Britt," he said. "Randy's got it under control. I can take time off to be with my daughter in her time of need."

"What about me?" Mojo whined. "I have needs!"

"What you need is a muzzle," Frannie said. To the phone, "Oh my god, I'm not freaking _talking_ to you! What? Wait, _what_?"

She listened for a minute and looked over at me. "Santana, Natalie says your mom's looking for you, but she doesn't have your new phone number."

"Natalie?" I asked. "My Natalie?"

Frannie listened again. "She said she's not your Natalie and how many Natalies do you share a mom with?"

"One too many," I muttered. "How does she even know I'm here?"

"She can hear your big mouth. Her words, not mine." Frannie waited as Natalie sent another oh-so-important message, but I didn't want my family business laid out on the breakfast table.

"Okay, thanks, Nat," I said, attempting to end the conversation. "I'll call you later."

"She said she didn't know that you knew Brittany," Frannatalie continued, ignoring me.

"Yup, I know everybody. I'm the phonebook. Bye, Natalie."

"She asked if-" Frannie stopped short. "Gross, Nat! It's not like they're lezzies or something!"

_Oh fuck. Here it comes. Three, two, one._

Right on cue, Frannie's mouth dropped open and she simply said, "Oh."

I couldn't really blame Natalie for thinking it was okay to say whatever she said. It had been a long time since she had seen me be anything but "out and proud." Ninety nine percent of the time, I wouldn't have cared about her mentioning to someone that I was a lesbian.

_This is the one percent. Occupy Kitchen Table._

Brittany's face turned fire engine red and her fork clattered against her plate. Frannie had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"Sorry! She asked if like- if you guys- and I thought- but she was serious," Frannie said in a rush. "I didn't mean to call you gross."

Mojo stopped stuffing her face. "Wait, you're a lesbian?"

I sat up straighter in my chair, suddenly feeling defensive. "Yes, I am."

Judy looked like she was frozen in time. Her fork was hanging in the air, on its way to deliver a perfect pancake triangle to her waiting mouth. The only things that moved were her eyes, darting back and forth between me and Brittany. Seeing things that she probably hadn't seen before.

"That can be our Fun Fact for Santana!" Mo shouted, slapping his forehead. "We always do a Fun Fact when we bring a new guest to the table. I can't believe we forgot! So that can be your Fun Fact. How does that sound?"

I nodded stiffly at Mo and he smiled, taking another bite of his food. He seemed to be oblivious to the current conversation and what was being implied.

"So if you're a lesbian, how does that work with your razor sharp nails?" Mojo asked.

Judy exploded.

"Maureen Josephine Pierce!" she shouted, slamming her hand down on the table. "That is inappropriate conversation for the breakfast table!"

Frannie sighed into the phone. "I'll call you back later, my mom's self-destructing. Have fun at school, loser."

I could tell the woman was teetering on the edge of something unpleasant and I didn't want to watch her have a meltdown.

I abruptly stood up from the table. "Look at the time! I gotta gay. Go! I gotta go!"

_Strike me with lightning, oh merciful Sky Being._

Judy gave me a withering look. I waited for Brittany to say something, but she was still sitting there, frozen.

"It was nice meeting you all," I continued, stepping away from the table and pushing my chair in. "Breakfast was lovely."

"Razor sharp nails," Mojo whispered in awestruck horror.

Frannie shuddered. "It really _is_ a curse."

"It was a pleasure to have you in our home," Mo smiled, blissfully ignorant. "Actually, Brittany's home. Hiram and Leroy's home, if you want to get technical."

Judy didn't say anything. She just stood and started clearing plates from the table, jerking mechanically as she moved. The sudden movement caused Brittany to reanimate.

"I'll walk you out," she said quietly, standing to her feet.

As we walked out of the kitchen, Mojo shouted at us from the table.

"Don't be a stranger!"

* * *

><p>"Is it too late to pretend that I don't know those people?" Brittany sighed, shuffling her feet down the carpeted hallway.<p>

"A little."

"I'm so sorry about them," she said. "My family is really weird."

"The Fabrays, they're your family, too?" I asked.

_Please say no, please say no, please-_

She tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course they are. They're not related by blood, but they're still my family."

We reached the elevator bank and I pressed the down button.

"My sister's got a big mouth," I said, looking down at the ground. "I hope I didn't get you into any trouble."

Brittany sighed. "I don't really know what I'm going to do about that. Judy's not happy at all."

"Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean they're going to think you are, too," I said hopefully.

"Well, good because I'm not." She met my eyes briefly and looked away. "I mean, I still like guys so… I don't really need to make a big deal out of this other thing."

"_This other thing"? Ouch._

"Sometimes, I think it would be better to just forget about-" She looked around and lowered her voice. "-to forget about girls. To go back to pretending."

My heart felt like it was slowly sinking into the pit of my stomach.

"Don't say that, Britt." I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Why? It's true." She laughed bitterly. "It's not like I don't have enough to deal with already. Why would I put myself through this, too? So family meals can be like _that_? So my family can hate me?"

"No," I said gently. "You could do it because you know that pretending doesn't make you happy."

"It doesn't," she agreed. She smiled softly. "Waking up like I did this morning makes me happy. But that's not the real world. That's our little secret bubble, and you saw how fast Judy popped it. My dad and Mojo and the Fabrays? That's what's real for me right now. I can't lose that."

Something desperate clawed at the inside of my chest.

"You can have both," I said. I felt like I was pleading.

Her shoulders drooped. "I don't think I can, Santana. I don't know how to bring all of it together without breaking everything."

"You won't break me. I'm pretty durable." I slid my hand down to hers and squeezed it firmly. "Britt, I'm not asking you to jump onto the kitchen table and tell your whole family that we're… about us, but you should at least be honest with yourself. You don't have to pretend with yourself and you don't have to pretend with me."

She smirked. "I couldn't pretend with you even if I wanted to."

The elevator dinged and opened, revealing an older woman and her yappy Pomeranian. Brittany's hand immediately slid out of mine. The old lady totally wasn't paying attention to us, but I knew Brittany wasn't seeing what I was seeing. I remember being in the closet. Sometimes it feels like you have a big, neon rainbow flashing above your head and everybody just _knows_.

"Hello, Mrs. Wells," Brittany chirped brightly. "Hi, Sasha."

The old lady waved politely and the dog did a little jittery dance at the mention of its name.

I stepped into the elevator next to the jittery dog. "Call me tonight if your nature sounds CD is skipping."

She grinned. "You owe me seventy five bucks, by the way. Plus shipping and handling. Those CDs weren't cheap."

"Send me an invoice," I told her. "I'll make sure it gets to the proper trash can."

* * *

><p>The West End of Lima was exactly what it sounded like. It was the westernmost boundary of the city, the last frontier. It was also a fucking cesspool.<p>

It wasn't always that way. In fact, in the late 60s, the people of the West End formed one of the largest community service programs in the city. The group was called "The Knights of West Lima" and back then, pretty much everyone was a Knight at one point or another. Mercedes's parents met at a KOWL bake sale when they were in high school. According to my abuela, my mom was pretty active with the program back in the day. It was the "it" thing to do at the time.

But like most good things, somebody had to come along and fuck it up for everybody else. And like most unspeakable events in world history, it happened in the 80s. The breakdown started with a few bad seeds who decided to break off and turn their affiliation with the Knights into something it wasn't meant to be. Before anyone knew what was happening, the Knight_mares_ were a full-blown gang of their own.

As it turns out, Lima cops couldn't tell the difference between similarly named groups and soon, being affiliated with the Knights became more trouble than it was worth. Being affiliated with the Knightmares, however, proved to be quite the lucrative endeavor. The gang blew up and quickly gained a reputation as the most infamous gang in Allen County. If you saw a Knightmare coming, you didn't cross the street. You went inside the nearest building and locked the door.

Unless you're me, of course.

I was looking for trouble, which was never hard to find in Lima Heights. This was especially true on Thursday nights. Protection money was due and the Knightmare collection crew would be making their rounds to the local business and getting their money, one way or another.

Even though it was getting dark, it was still unseasonably warm outside. The outfit I was wearing made everything ten times worse. I had on Puck's black sweatsuit and a black bandana covering my nose and mouth. It was pretty cheap looking, but I was on a budget.

I still hadn't solved the shoe situation. I was wearing my only other pair of black sneakers, so after one flight, I was going to be screwed. I had extra pairs of black socks in the pockets of my hoody. It was going to have to be good enough.

Everything inside the store looked exactly the way I expected. Zippy Mart was a good-sized convenience store. There were five long aisles that spanned the entire length of the room and a freezer section that lined two whole walls. Each aisle had a gap in the middle, effectively separating the store into two halves.

At the front of the store, Uncle Zippy was slumped over the counter, asleep with his shotgun cradled in his arms. A teenage girl stood next to him, gripping the counter with white knuckles. She jumped about five feet in the air when the bell above the door dinged. We stared at each other as she breathed heavily.

"You're not… you're not a Knightmare," she said.

"_No, I'm not,"_ I said, walking towards her.

She took a step back and glared at me.

"Why do you sound like that? Who are you? I'm not geting robbed twice in one night!"

I put up my hands in what I hoped was non-threatening gesture. _"It's okay, I'm not here to rob you. I'm here to help."_

She looked at me skeptically, but even if I was lying, there was nothing she could do.

"_I'm going to hide and when the Knightmares come, I'm going to kick their asses. I need you to not let anyone know that I'm here, okay?"_

I felt bad for her. When I was an employee at Zippy Mart, my abuela refused to let me work Thursdays for this specific reason. I'd never experienced a Knightmare visit and I didn't envy this girl.

The girl just nodded her head and turned around, pretending to straighten the cigarette cases on the wall behind her.

"You're not here," she said.

I walked down to the aisle furthest from the door, the one next to the freezer wall. I crouched down, peering around the edge of the aisle so that I could see the street through the storefront window. As I waited for the Knightmares to make their appearance, I charged up more, sending energy to the surface of my skin and letting it settle there.

I didn't have to wait long.

An old, dark blue Cadillac pulled up in front of the store and parked in the middle of the street. Four guys hopped out while one remained in the running car. The guys were probably in their late teens and early twenties. They were of varying heights, weights, and ethnicities. The Knightmares were an equal opportunity employer. All of them were wearing blue baseball caps and blue jackets. I recognized the first guy because there were probably only five redheads in West Lima and only one of them had a gelled-up pompadour going on in the front of his head and a flowy, Patrick Swayze mullet in the back. That obnoxious asshole was the one and only Rick "The Stick" Nelson.

Rick was a pretty prominent member of the Knightmares. He was known for carrying a hockey stick around with him and using it as a "method of persuasion." He didn't have it with him that night.

It didn't matter either way to me. I was ready to whoop that ass.

The bell tinkled cheerfully as they entered and I waddled backwards so that they wouldn't see me. Two of them immediately walked behind the counter while the other two lounged against it, shoving lighters and packs of gum into their pockets.

Rick turned to the girl and pointed at the register. "Open this."

They weren't far away from me, maybe about fifteen feet tops. I considered running over at super speed and kicking everyone's ass, but there was no way I could take those guys down without hurting Uncle Zippy and the girl in the process. They were standing too close together. The Knightmares opened up a duffle bag and started filling it with money.

I eyed the closest one.

_Turn on your super speed and you can shoot all four of them before they know what hit them._

The plan was perfect. There was only one problem with it: super speed and accuracy aren't exactly best friends. Accuracy's not such a big deal when you're pulling a kid under a speeding truck. All you have to do is hit the ground. But when you're trying to make four non-lethal energy beam shots within milliseconds of each other, it becomes a little problematic.

I leaned carefully around the edge of the shelf, aimed at the leg of one of Knightmares, and fired. He screamed and grabbed the edge of the counter, but I was already moving toward the next one. The Knightmares turned in slow motion, looking around to see what had hit their friend. I aimed as well as I could, but I was moving too fast. I missed the next guy's leg by a mile and my energy beam hit the counter next to him, ripping into the metal and wood. They were turning towards me now, eyes narrowing in anger. I had one more shot before I had to move. I swung my hand back to the right and missed again. My energy beam hit the gumball machine, shattering the glass and sending large round candy balls flying all over the place.

Super speed shooting was impossible. I jumped back behind the shelf as the Knightmares drew their weapons.

"What the fuck?"

"Somebody's back there!"

"Shoot him!"

_Abort! Time for a new plan!_

I ran. Bullets pierced the freezer cases behind me as the Knightmares shot at my head, shattering the glass and causing alcoholic liquid to spray all over the place.

I darted through the gap in the middle of the aisle and ran across the store, narrowly avoiding bullets as the Knightmares shot at me from the counter. I turned down the fourth aisle and dropped back into my crouch, holding my gunhand steady in case someone came at me. Feet shuffled across other aisles, following me to the back half of the store.

Then, there was silence.

_Perfect. Just what I wanted today. A standoff._

Slowly, I rose to my full height, peeking over the bags of potato chips that lined the top shelf. Shots rang out and I dropped back down as the bags exploded in a hail of gunfire. Cheetos and Doritos rained down upon me from the heavens, covering my hoody in a fine dusting of unnaturally orange cheese powder.

I crept across the floor on my knees, reaching up and grabbing a two-liter of Coke from the shelf above my head. When I reached the gap in the aisle, instead of poking my head out, I held the two-liter by the neck of the bottle and slowly inched it out into the gap. Almost instantly, a bullet ripped through the bottle, causing it to explode all over me.

_This is absolutely disgusting. I feel like a gamer's snack tray._

I sat back on my haunches and thought about my options.

"Bring your ass out here!" Rick yelled.

"Come on, chicken shit! We're gonna kick your ass!"

_No thank you._

Knowing what Ben said about taking bullets made me less afraid to get shot, but that didn't mean I was going to voluntarily run in front of a gun if there was a better way.

_Can I throw an energy ball over the aisles?_

These guys probably weren't as dumb as Joey from the alley muggings. They weren't gonna catch the shiny mystery ball falling from the heavens. I'd have to hit them directly without looking and I highly doubted that was going to happen.

A bright pink gumball rolled into my path, stopping as it hit my sneaker.

_Maybe… maybe I should try that new thing._

There was a little trick I'd been practicing on the roof of my building with Skittles. I was inspired by Ben's unique and selfish way of making popcorn while we were in Canada. He'd put a few kernels in his hand, charge up, and pop them with heat from his palm. Everyone would get pissed because he never popped a whole bag to share with everyone like a normal person would.

I picked up the large gumball, which was now covered in Coke, and eyed it thoughtfully.

_It's way bigger than a Skittle… I hope that doesn't matter. Let's give it a shot._

The principle here was pretty much the same. The first step in the process was to transfer energy to another medium through direct contact. Or in layman's terms, charge up the gumballs.

I scooped up large handfuls of wet gumballs and started stuffing them in my pockets. When I'd gathered all the gumballs I could reach, I took a few out and focused energy into my palm. Flashes of light flickered in the spaces between my fingers as I squeezed my fist, pumping energy into the candy. When I felt the gumballs vibrating against each other in my hand, I stopped.

_On the count of three. One… two… three!_

I tossed the gumballs through the gap in the aisle, making sure to give them enough momentum so that they rolled far, far away from me. The gumballs rolled nosily across the tile, skipping across bumps in the floor and darting off in random directions.

"What the fuck are those?"

"Are we supposed to trip and fall on these? This ain't a cartoon, asshole."

The second step in the process was to let the medium forcefully discharge the energy.

Or in layman's terms, watch the gumballs explode.

The candies detonated with loud bangs, propelling themselves off of the floor and launching into nearby items with incredible force. When I heard screams, I rolled out into the open and ran through the middle of the store, charging gumballs as I moved. One Knightmare was curled up in the fetal position, being pelted with flying candy. I ran up and kicked him in the head, mercifully putting him out of his misery.

_I should get a humanitarian award for this._

Another Knightmare was clinging to the shelves, holding a leg that was bleeding through his jeans. I fired a gumball at him and it exploded on contact, hitting him in his good leg and causing him to fall back into the minefield of exploding gumballs. His head hit the ground with a sickening thud. Dazed, he tried to drag himself away from the deadly candy.

The two other guys never moved from behind the counter. Rick raised his gun and popped off two rounds, hitting me right between the eyes with both shots. My head jerked back from the impact, but I'd charged up the way Ben told me, so they didn't even break the skin.

_Son of a bitch that hurts!_

The bullets crumpled like paper and fell to the ground. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and looked up at Rick, who was staring back at me in horror. He raised his gun again and started firing rapidly at me. The other Knightmare behind the counter pulled out his weapon and joined in, too. As they fired at my chest and head, I slowly approached the front counter, taking each bullet without letting them see how painful it was to do so. They visibly paled, finally realizing that there wasn't anything wrong with their guns. There was something wrong with _me_.

As a last ditch effort, Rick wrestled Zippy's gun away from his sleeping body and leveled it at me. At point-blank range, I took a shotgun blast to the chest.

The impact sent me flying backward. I hit the ground hard.

"Dumb motherfucker," he snorted. "Get the rest of the cash so we can get the hell out of here."

My head spun as I laid there. If I had to rank my Top Ten Most Physically Painful Experiences, a shotgun blast from two feet away would easily be in the top 5. I didn't think I was ever going to be able to get up again.

_Suck it up, Lopez. If you don't finish this, Finntastic wins._

The picture of Finntastic hanging on Brittany's wall flashed in my head.

"Leave those idiots here," Rick said. "They can walk back."

I waited with my eyes closed. When the first one stepped over me, I grabbed his ankles and yanked his legs out from underneath him. He fell, slamming his head into the counter on the way down. I aimed my other hand at Rick's crotch and shot him right in the Stick. He fell to his knees, screaming every swear word that's ever been invented. Jumping up unsteadily from the ground, I grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back up into a standing position.

"_Listen up, dickless,"_ I said. _"We're going for a little ride. If you give me any trouble, I'll cut whatever's left of your balls off with a dull razor. Got it?"_

He made a squeaky whining noise that I took as consent.

Zippy snorted and snuffled, slowly rejoining the land of the living. He saw me and jumped off of his stool, reaching for his shotgun.

"Who are you?" he yelled in the heavy accent that I could never place. "Thief! Hoodlum!"

"Grandpa, stop!" the girl said, shaking his shoulder. "This guy stopped the Knightmares! They didn't rob the store!"

"What?" Zippy asked, eyeing his granddaughter suspiciously.

I grabbed the duffle bag of money and dropped it on the counter.

"_You don't have to worry about them coming back, Zipples,"_ I said. _"They aren't going to be bothering you anymore."_

Rick smartly didn't protest this statement.

Uncle Zippy rummaged through the bag in disbelief. Zippy Mart's money wasn't the only money in there, but there was no way to figure out where it came from.

He was beyond shocked. "How did… what… why?"

"_Call some of the neighbors to take out this trash, Zippy. I have some errands to run."_

And with that, I left the store, dragging Rick behind me. Hopefully with the extra money, Zippy could clean up the mess I made.

* * *

><p>I opened the backdoor of the Cadillac and tossed the whimpering mess that was Rick in the backseat.<p>

Before I could even say anything to the driver, the car immediately took off. I pulled hard on the door handle with superhuman strength, managing only to rip the door off of the frame.

"_Son of a bitch!"_

I wasn't about to run around chasing another car. I kicked my shoes off, quickly knotted the laces together, and slung them around my neck. The car was turning a corner, but it wasn't going to get away. I gave myself a running start, then blasted into the air, leaving a mini-crater in the street behind me.

I shot up above the buildings, scanning the surrounding streets for the Cadillac. It almost looked like it had disappeared into thin air, but I realized I was looking in the wrong direction. They weren't headed back to the West End. They were going east.

_Perfect._

I rocketed off after them, lowering myself to the height of the street lamps. I didn't care if people saw me today. That was kind of the point.

Once I got directly above the car, I killed my jets and slammed down onto the hood.

"He's on the roof!"

"He's a fucking alien!"

The driver swerved hard, straight into oncoming traffic. We were in Lima Heights Adjacent and the evening rush hour was just ending, but there were still a good number of cars on the street.

Two cars were headed toward us, but he kept on driving straight toward them. I guess he thought an impromptu game of Chicken would scare me off the roof.

_I'm not afraid of Chicken, dumbass. Didn't you hear? I love meat._

I slammed my fists down, shattering the windshield and giving myself something to hold onto. The car lifted up as I took off, blasting energy through my feet. The front wheels lost contact with the ground as I dragged the car back into the correct lane, Now that I was steering the ship, we could go where we needed to be. We were running out of time.

By the time we got to downtown, I was exhausted. I'm not Puck, so dragging a car behind me wasn't an easy task. Flying by itself was physically intense. We were only a few blocks away from The Lima Times. Victory was within my reach.

"_I hope you guys like prison food,"_ I called to my passengers. _"I have a feeling you're going to be eating a lot of it soon."_

"Fuck that shit! I'm not going back to jail!" the driver yelled.

A bullet ripped through the roof, narrowly missing my body. I cut the power to my feet and we slammed back into the ground. I bounced off the roof and almost rolled off the side of the car, catching myself just in time. The driver hit the gas and the car lurched forward.

He swerved recklessly in and out of cars and with the constant changing of direction, it was all I could do to hold on. The Lima Times was just one stop light away.

That stop light was red.

Cars were coming through intersection and there was no way we could stop in time.

I did the only thing I could think of. With every bit of strength left in me, I hugged myself tightly to the roof, digging my hands into the metal frame, and blasted upwards. The entire car left the ground and rose 10, 20, 30 feet in the air, enough to clear the intersection. My body was screaming for me to drop the stupid thing. With a mighty roar, I gave the car a single, hard shake, wrenching the roof from the frame and letting the car fall to the earth. I swooped down as it fell, grabbing the two gang members by their collars and yanking them out of the airborne Caddy.

The car had quite a lot of momentum, way more than I had expected. It flew down the street, crashed into the front of a building, and finally came to rest on the sidewalk.

Then it exploded.

When I saw the name of the store it hit, I gulped.

_ABC Liquor. Oh dear._

* * *

><p>The good part about starting a raging inferno in the middle of downtown is that it gets people's attention, which was exactly what I wanted. Within minutes, a very large crowd gathered around the burning building to watch the freak with the glowing eyes and the two banged-up gangbangers. I calmly took my sneakers from around my neck and slipped my feet into them as traffic came to a screeching halt in both directions. Some idiot parked right in front of the liquor store and got out to get a better look at the fire.<p>

_Perfect._

I jumped on top of the hood of the parked car, dragging the Knightmares with me as I made my way to the car's roof. The car's owner opened his mouth to protest, but when I turned my glowing gaze on him, he thought better of it.

It didn't take long for the Lima Times employees to make their way outside and check out the ruckus. They were journalists after all, and where there's smoke, there must be news. Brittany and Quinn were near the middle of the pack with Finntastic looming over them, ready to escort them home from work. He immediately recognized me and his face got very, very pale. He knew I was the hooded stranger from alley. When I was satisfied with the number of people in the crowd, I cleared my throat, channeled my inner Sue Sylvester, and prepared to give the speech that I'd been practicing in my head all day.

"_Citizens of Lima,"_ I announced. _"You deserve better."_

The sound of my voice caused many of the onlookers to gasp and recoil in fear. Like true journalists, the Lima Times reporters pulled out the various tools of their trade, notepads, cameras, tape recorders, etc.

"_You deserve to be able to walk the streets of the city at night, assured of the safety that Mr. Finntastic hasn't been able to provide."_

Mixed emotions flashed across Finntastic's face, the most prevalent one being confusion.

"_Sure, he's stopped some bank robberies, raided some drug dens, shut down a small counterfeiting ring. But what does that mean to you? You're not worried about drug dens. You're worried about getting robbed on a dark street corner at night."_

People in the crowd murmured to each other. Some of them cast doubtful looks in Finntastic's direction.

"_Mr. Finntastic can stop that, too, if he's there. Well, what if he's not? What happens then? How is Lima safer when Mr. Finntastic has done nothing to stop the worst criminal element in the city?"_

I looked over at Brittany, wanting to see her reaction to my speech, but her face was hidden behind her camera. For the first time ever, she was taking my picture.

"_You want to feel safe? You want to be protected? Cut the cancer out of Lima, starting with a problem that should've been dealt with a long time ago, the Knightmares. Someone needs to stand up and say 'we're mad as hell and we're not gonna take it anymore!'"_

Some of the people in the crowd made sounds of agreement and a few people even cheered. Fire trucks were fast approaching. It was time to wrap it up.

"_If Mr. Finntastic isn't willing to get his hands dirty and do what he needs to do to keep Lima truly safe, then maybe it's time Lima got another option. That's why I'm here. I pledge to clean up these streets, one Knightmare at a time, so that you all can sleep soundly."_

It was corny and not even clever, but I said it for Brittany and I hoped that she got my meaning. Cameras flashed rapidly as two fire trucks and several cop cars pulled up beside the crowd. The cops hopped out and immediately started trying to part the crowd so that the fire trucks could get to the liquor store. It was officially time to fly the coop.

"What's your name?" a reporter shouted over the noise.

My real name slid to the edge of my tongue and I bit down so hard on it that I tasted blood. I hadn't really thought about what people should call me. Forethought wasn't really my strong suit.

"_I'm just a concerned citizen,"_ I said after a moment of hesitation. _"That's all you need to know."_

"You, on top of the car! Freeze!" a policeman cried, pulling his weapon.

I took one last look at Brittany, who was still snapping picture after picture. I dropped Rick the Stick and his driver to the asphalt where their injured and exhausted bodies landed with a thud. And because setting a liquor store on fire isn't dramatic enough for me, I blasted off with more force than necessary, demolishing the car's roof and leaving blinding trails of white light behind me. My exit drew an audible collective gasp from the crowd. Even Quinn was awestruck by my amazingness.

Finn Dudson, however, was _livid_.

* * *

><p>Brittany wasn't on her roof that night. She wasn't in her room, either. Rachel was home, singing dramatically into a hairbrush while a Barbara Streisand movie played in the background. Quinn's lights were off, but I didn't look too closely into her windows for fear that I might catch a glimpse of Finn Hudson's pasty, sweaty ass in the moonlight.<p>

I was confused about where Brittany could be until I flew downtown. Every single light at the Lima Times was on. They were burning the midnight oil, presumably writing about the circus I'd put on that afternoon. It was simultaneously thrilling and frightening.

I finished my training exercises and collapsed onto my bed at 4AM. When I woke up at 7, the first thing I wanted to do was get my hands on a copy of the Lima Times.

I threw on some clothes and walked the few blocks down the street to Zippy Mart. Even though Zippy Mart had pretty much become an omen for bad things, nothing could kill my excitement.

The store was still a hot mess. Everything had been straightened up and cleaned as much as humanly possible, but the glass was still missing from the freezer cases and there were giant chunks of linoleum missing because of the gumball bombs. The bullet holes in the counter were more than a little bit noticeable. Zippy sat on his usual stool behind the counter, looking surprisingly upbeat for someone whose store was turned upside-down.

_I'm sure he dried his tears with that huge sack of money I left here._

"Santana Lopez!" he called out. "It's too early for you to be awake, no?"

I walked over to the counter and grabbed a copy of the Lima Times off of the small wire rack, slapping it on the counter with a loud thwack.

"You know what they say, Zipples. The early bird gets the worm, and all that jazz."

He chuckled, nodding his head. "I know what they say."

As I fished my money out of my pocket, Zippy leaned over the counter, flashing a toothy grin.

"And I know what _you_ say."

I paused, raising an eyebrow at him as he grinned manically.

"Even you can't break my stride today, you crazy bastard," I said, tossing a few bills on the counter. "I want a Mega Freezie Chug, too. Yes, it's 7AM and no, I do not care. Red dye number 6 and high fructose corn syrup, drizzled lovingly over a cup of ice shavings. Breakfast of champions."

He rang me up at the counter and I snatched up the newspaper. I walked over to the Freezie Chug machine, grabbing the largest cup and sitting it under the Mango Madness nozzle. With one hand, I flipped the paper around so that I could see the front page.

I knew right away that the picture was one of Brittany's. What I couldn't tell was who the person in the picture was. It was _me_, of course, but at the same time, it wasn't me at all. She must have taken the picture when I looked at her, right before I blasted off. I was standing on top of the car, towering over the crowd with a semi-conscious Knightmare hanging from each hand. My face was hidden in shadow with only the glowing light from eyes showing from inside my hood. Fire and smoke poured out of the liquor store behind me. I looked like some otherworldly Hell creature, coming to Earth to do some serious shit like reap souls or something.

It was a disturbing image and it was making me feel everything Brittany wanted her audience to feel. Uncomfortable. Anxious. Scared. It was everything _she_ must have been feeling about _me_.

The rest of the page was taken up by the headline. It summed up the photo in a single word, printed above Quinn's byline in bold black letters.

_MENACE._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

So Santana makes a stellar first impression. NOT. Never fear, folks. All is not lost.

I always picture Brittany's dad as Stanley Tucci (thank you, tumblr gifs). We'll learn more about the Fierce Family later.

My goal is to get another chapter out this month, and now that I've said it, we know it won't happen XD

Hasta la pasta,  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	12. Dig Deeper

**A/N:** When I started this story, I thought I would be updating once a week. I want some of what Chapter1!Tibbs was smoking.

Disclaimer: El Glee es la propiedad de RIB y FOX. Yo tengo nada.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12: Dig Deeper<strong>

The article should've been called "MENACE, Oh And By The Way, I'm Sucking Finn Hudson's Robotic Dick."

It was actually a fascinating read. It had everything: statements from the police and eye-witnesses, excerpts from my speech, even a quote from Rick the Stick's lawyer about bringing assault charges against me.

Somewhere in the middle of the article, Quinn must have forgotten everything she learned about journalism because she proceeded to go on a full-fledged rant, denouncing everything I'd said and trying her damnedest to make all of Lima drink that sweet, sweet Finntastic Koolaid.

The icing on the cake was the rather lengthy portion of the article that said the police had matched my fingerprints from the burning car in the liquor store to the murder weapon from Bryan Ryan's crime scene.

"Holy fuck," I said as realization hit me.

_My fingerprints are all over that gun. My fingerprints are the _only_ fingerprints on that gun._

It appeared that Mr. Finntastic had told the cops about my guest appearance in the alley. I didn't know what or how much he told them, but his story put me in the alley with the murder weapon in my hand and that was more than enough to get me thrown in jail for a very long time.

Or at least make me very, very unlikeable.

"Look at what you are doing!" Uncle Zippy shouted in his unidentifiable accent, running around the counter. He slapped my hand, which was still wrapped around the Mango Madness Freezie Chug handle. I had been dumping orange slush into my overflowing cup and all over the floor.

I released the nozzle, never letting my gaze leave the article in front of me.

"He's going to pin the whole thing on me," I whispered, staring at the words and letting them run together.

_How do you convince people that you're better than someone else?_

_You make the other person look like a fucking murderer._

He didn't have to rise up and meet my challenge. He just had to shit on my name, stand back, and be the Golden Boy. The newspaper started to tear in my hands as I tightened my grip on it, fuming.

"I don't even have a name to _shit on_!" I growled, suppressing the surge of energy that threatened to take over.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Zippy crossing his arms and scowling at me.

"You are cleaning this up."

I looked down at the mess and shook my head. "Yeah, no."

"I am not asking. I am telling."

"Look, Zippy," I said wearily. "Cut me a break. My morning just got really shitty."

"But you were so _happy_ when you got here," he smirked. "What? You did not like the news?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No, I did not like the news."

"Well, no refunds for bad news!" He laughed uproariously and slapped my shoulder.

"Bite me," I muttered, tossing the paper into the puddle of slushie and stalking towards the exit.

His guffaws faded to chuckles as he called after me. "Oh, not funny? You always say funny-mean things to me! You can plate, but you cannot take it, hmm?"

"It's 'dish,' not 'plate,'" I called back as I reached the front door. "I can dish it, but I can't take it."

"This is what I said." He had finally calmed down enough so that he was just grinning at me like a jerk. "Enough of these games, Santana. I have something that will maybe make you happy like before."

I paused with my hand on the door, ready to push it open and be done with the crazy old man. But like any stupid human being, the promise of happiness intrigued me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Lock the door," he said. "For you, I have something to show."

"I'm not in the mood for jokes right now."

"No jokes," he said sincerely. "I promise."

"Fine. The spirit of the day is kinda dead now anyway. I'm warning you, though. If your hand goes anywhere near your zipper-"

"Yes, yes, razor blades in your hair, I have heard this a thousand times," he said, waving his hand dismissively.

"This better be good."

Zippy headed down to the hallway that led to the storeroom and the manager's office. I followed him, and as I passed the rapidly melting pile of orange slush, I took one last look at the article that was written, photographed, and edited by three people whose lives I'd saved.

The most infuriating part was that even though Brittany and Quinn didn't know any better, Shelby Cochran did. She'd have to be legally blind to not recognize that the person on the front page was the same one who saved her.

_How could she print this stuff about me after what I did for her?_

The manager's office was basically a broom closet with a desk and towers of boxes stacked dangerously high. Zippy went back there when he had to do paperwork, but it also served other purposes. Back in the day, my horny coworker would take her many, many boyfriends (and occasionally, Zippy's irresponsible oldest son) into the office for some afternoon delight. She must have thought I was stupid because even crackheads don't take that many smoke breaks.

Zippy was a skinny old man, but even he had trouble moving around the boxes in the room to get to his desk.

"Here, have a seat," he said, gesturing to the dusty chair on the other side of the desk. I sat down on the edge of it and stared at him blankly. He looked at me with a lopsided half-grin on his face before he began.

"Santana, I have lived for a very, very long time."

"I know," I said. "You probably invented time."

"Hush yourself." He gave me a pointed look before continuing. "I have lived a very long time, I have lived in many places all over the world, and I have been called many things."

_A jerk? A geezer? A crazy old bastard?_

"But in all of my time on this planet, only one person has ever called me," he frowned like he tasted something terrible, "Zipples."

He was talking about me, of course. My abuela gave me the gift of a lifetime, Mr. Ziggles, when I was six. Sometimes, I would get Uncle Zippy and Mr. Ziggles mixed up and I'd say things like "Uncle Zipples" or "Mr. Ziggy." No amount of eye rolling from Zippy could fix this behavior, and eventually it stuck.

These days, it only seemed to happen when Ziggles was out of his box. One of my ex-girlfriends, a psychology major, told me that sleeping with Ziggles caused me to regress in age. I called her a poopy head. We broke up.

I shrugged. "What can I say? I'm one of a kind. What's your point?"

"My point is that you say Zipples and no one else says this to me. You said it last week when you came to buy milk."

"Yeah…"

"You said it today when you came for a newspaper."

"Ok? You're losing me, Zip."

"And you said it last night when you saved the store."

My mouth opened under the pretense of exchanging words with the old man, but once it was open, my jaw just kind of hung there.

_Did you really say that? Because if you did, you fucked alllllll the way up._

I shook my head furiously, refusing to believe I was _that_ stupid. "I didn't say that."

As a large grin slowly spread across Zippy's face, I realized my mistake.

"I mean, I wasn't here last night!" I corrected quickly.

_Jeez, Lopez. Maybe you really _are_ that stupid._

"I wasn't here last night," I repeated. "So just because some weirdo in a hood called you Zipples doesn't mean that the weirdo was me, alright?"

Zippy shrugged. "It is no worry to me. I am just a messenger."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Messenger?"

"Yes." He reached down below his desk, pulled out a plain black messenger bag, and set it on his desk. There was a piece of paper folded in half and taped to the top. "I came to the store this morning and a little girl gave me this. It is a message for the one who saved the store."

"What's the message?" I asked, reaching across the desk. He smacked my hand away and wagged his finger at me.

"No, no!" he chastised. "I will get in trouble if I give to you. This is not for you. You were not here last night, so you say."

I leaned forward. "Stop screwing around, Zippy. You said you had something that would make me happy. Now show it to me."

Zippy stood up and opened the clasps on the bag, then lifted the flap. I halfway expected it to be full of Hot Cheetos or something because it would be a Zippy-funny thing to do.

The bag was full of money.

Now, when I say "the bag was full of money," I don't mean that somebody dumped a few singles and a handful of quarters in a satchel. This thing was packed with stacks upon stacks of bills featuring various dead presidents.

"Holy shit!" I stood up from my chair and rubbed my eyes in disbelief. When I opened them again, the money was still there.

"Happy now?" Zippy laughed.

"Is this some kind of trick?" I reached for the money again, but Zippy shut the messenger bag and pulled it back.

I huffed in annoyance. "You know, if I really am who you think I am, I could just take it from you."

"You would not have to take it. It would be your money then." He set the messenger bag on his chair. "Now, if you would kindly prove to me that you are the right person, I will give you your money."

I examined his appearance closely. He didn't appear to be drunk.

"What's your game, Zipple- I mean, Zippy?"

"No game." He gestured to the messenger bag. "Little girl walked in the store right before you did. She says to give this to the one who beats the Knightmares and if I take any money from the bag… well, it is unpleasant to speak of, but special body parts will be removed."

"So you thought you'd give it to me and run the risk of getting your balls cut off?"

He shuddered. "I would not risk that. I am certain in my choice."

"How do I know you didn't just take some money from that other bag and put it in this bag?" I asked, pointing to the black duffle bag on the floor that the Knightmares left.

Zippy shook his head in disappointment. "No one knows what is in that bag except my granddaughter. Now explain how _you_ have come to know of it if you were not here last night. You are not very good at this."

I glared at him, keeping my mouth shut so I didn't let anymore incriminating tidbits fall out. I was fucking up left and right.

He rolled his eyes. "I know it is you, so perhaps we can stop this foolishness and I can reopen my store."

I weighed my options.

_You can show Zippy that you're a mythical freakish beast and get a messenger bag full of money or you can keep your secret safe and remain broke._

I had a lot of uses for a messenger bag full of money, like destroying the hold my stepfather had over me and moving to a place where people didn't get shot so much. On the other hand, I'd recently stood on top of a car in the middle of downtown and declared war on a beloved cop and a vicious gang. Keeping my identity a secret was suddenly a lot more important now that people actually gave a shit.

Unfortunately, Zippy was pretty much convinced that it was me anyway.

"You did a good thing for me and for that I am grateful," he said. "I will not tell your secret."

I let out a long exhale and lowered my head. When I raised it again, my eyes were glowing.

"There," I muttered. "Is that what you wanted to see?"

Zippy didn't even seem phased. "It is as I suspected."

"It is," I said. I left my highbeams on until Zippy started to blink and look away. I stuck out my hand. "Money please."

He sat the bag on the desk. "It is yours."

I pulled the bag toward me, immediately pulling the note off the top and unfolding it. For a split second, I thought Kurt's loopy, purple script would be written there, but it wasn't. The note was typed in black ink on a normal-sized piece of paper.

_To the vigilante:_

_I knew you'd return to the scene of the crime and I knew Zippy would know who you were. You're either not from Lima Heights or you're an extremely careless person. My bet is on the latter._

_I have to say, I truly enjoyed your show yesterday. Your speech was compelling and dramatic, and I've always been a fan of pyrotechnics._

_You've managed to break free from the herd of sheeple, but just barely. Isn't it refreshing to breathe, to feel, to THINK, to know? You've only scratched the thin veneer on the surface of Lima's ugliness. I'm not confident you'll make it any further. You clearly lack creativity._

_Nevertheless, I thought I'd provide an incentive. In this bag (provided that Zippy has heeded my messenger's instructions), you will find $250,000 USD. Perhaps a small gift will be suitable motivation for you to continue your work. There's more where that came from. I doubt you have the drive to obtain it._

_Dig deeper._

"Well, that was incredibly rude," I muttered.

Zippy shrugged. "They have a point."

I refolded the letter and dropped it on the table. "What are you trying to say?"

"You are careless," he said. "You do not do a good job of being who you pretend to be. Your voice changes, but you still _speak_ like Santana. Your clothes change, but you still _walk_ like Santana."

In the space behind his desk, he walked in a small circle, bouncing on his toes and moving his hips from side to side like he was doing the fucking samba.

"I don't walk like that," I protested.

He sped up his movements until he was just wiggling in place.

"My name is Santana Lopez," he said in a high-pitched voice, "and I wasn't here last night!"

"I do not walk like that!" I yelled. "Nobody walks like that! How would they ever get anywhere?"

He stopped wiggling and plopped down in his chair, laughing his ass off.

"I'm glad you're entertaining yourself."

"You miss my point, Santana," he said, trying to catch his breath. "I will not tell your secret, but _you_ will tell your own secret if you do not use caution when you speak and when you move. You are the wolf in sheep's clothing, but your tail is sticking out!"

He was right. I couldn't put a mask on and go around making "Zipples" mistakes, especially now that I was a murder suspect.

"You need help," he said.

"I know," I admitted, "but this is kind of a delicate situation."

"It is delicate, but you run around like the bull in a Chinese shop," he chuckled.

"Do not."

"You have always been a bull, Little Alma. The world is your Chinese shop!"

"I resent that," I mumbled. "And it's a China shop, not a Chinese shop."

"This is what I said," he shrugged. "Even as a child, you were stubborn. Impulsive. When you worked for me, you made silly mistakes because you rushed through the steps. I tried to teach you to be careful, but there is too much Lopez in you."

He wasn't completely wrong. I did have a lot of my abuela's stubbornness and my mother's impulsiveness in me, along with an unfortunate inability to keep my mouth shut.

"You need help," he repeated. "By yourself, you will end this before it has begun."

"So you suggest that I drag some unfortunate souls into this mess with me?" I asked. "This isn't just about making Finntastic look like a douchebag or being Lima's new favorite superfreak. The newspaper really screwed me over this morning, the cops will be coming after me, and there's possibly a super-powered homosexual that could be waking up from a coma soon and coming after me _again_. Oh, and the Knightmares aren't going to be too pleased, either. I have a lot a more enemies than friends that can help."

"Nonsense! Anyone can help anyone!" Zippy laughed. "Look, even I can help! You say the newspaper makes you look bad? Well, I will help by making you look good. I will tell everyone who will listen about what you have done for my store."

To the average person, that wouldn't sound like a lot, but Zippy Mart got a lot of traffic on a normal day and even more people than usual would be coming by once they heard about the Knightmare attack. On top of that, Uncle Zippy was a well-known community figure. If he told the story to everyone who came by, it was going to get around.

"This is not something hard or dangerous for me, but it is helpful for you, you see?" He smiled and stood up. "It is something little, but it is still help."

I returned his smile. "Thanks, Zippy. I really appreciate it."

His eyes twinkled mischievously. "If we are quick, I can help with one more thing before the morning rush."

And for the next half hour, Zippy kept the store closed and we walked up and down the aisles of Zippy Mart, helping me learn how to walk without so much sashay in my shantay.

* * *

><p>Zippy was right. I did need help.<p>

It was time to call in a favor from the person who not only owed me big time, but had recently sky-rocketed to the top of my shit list.

If there was one good thing I could say about Shelby Cochran, it was that she was committed to her work. Most of the Lima Times employees were out of the building by 6:00pm, but Shelby was still in her office, typing away and tapping her pencil against her lips in thought.

I had been carrying the messenger bag of money around all day because I had no idea where to put it. When I landed on the roof of the Lima Times, I broke into the stairwell and left the bag on the top step.

No one was around, so I took my sweet time. I sat down in Brittany's cubicle, untied my new black sneakers (purchased with my mystery money) from around my neck, and slipped them on my feet. I shined my aviators on my hoody. I made sure that my black leather gloves were securely covering every possible inch of my hands. I grabbed a permanent marker and was just about to draw mustaches and devil horns on Quinn's framed photo of her and Finntastic when I heard the elevator ding.

Two sets of feet stepped out and I heard Brittany say, "Come on, Quinn. Talk to me, please."

_Fuck! Run! Hide!_

I crammed myself under Quinn's desk and shoved my body as far into the darkest corner as I could. The lights were off on the main floor. If nobody turned them on, I would be fine. The footsteps shuffled across the carpet, quickly approaching until four shoes stopped at the entrance of Quinn's cube.

"You can't give me the silent treatment forever," Brittany said.

"Yes, I can," Quinn replied, completely failing at giving Brittany the silent treatment forever.

It was very obvious which legs were Brittany's. From this angle, I could truly appreciate her beautifully sculpted calf muscles. Quinn could've had sheep legs attached to her body for all I cared.

Quinn suddenly bent down and reached blindly underneath the desk, scaring the Bejeezus out of me. She patted the ground in front of me until she found a purse that was sitting nearby and pulled it up.

"I know you're mad-"

"Mad does not even begin to cover what I'm feeling right now," Quinn spat. "You lied to me, Brittany!"

"I didn't lie!" Brittany blurted out. "I just didn't tell you everything."

Quinn whirled around quickly in her old lady shoes. "Lying by omission is still lying! You're supposed to be my best friend and I had to find out from my little sister that that bartender spent the night in your _bed_!"

_That awkward moment when people are talking about you, but they don't know you're hiding under the desk in their cubicle…_

"It's not what you think," Brittany said calmly. "We watched a movie and we went to sleep. That's all."

Quinn grimaced in disgust. "It's gross, Brittany. She probably tried to touch you in your sleep or something."

I gritted my teeth, angry that Quinn was trying to make me sound like some kind of pervert. My touches had been gestures of comfort so that Brittany would feel safe enough to sleep, not sexual advances on an unconscious person.

"Santana wouldn't do that," Brittany replied. "She and I are just friends. I don't like all of your friends, but I don't cut them down."

Quinn sighed and sat on top of her desk. The whole thing shifted and I prayed to the Structural Integrity Spirits that the cubicle wouldn't collapse on top of me.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Britt?" she asked.

"Of course not, Quinn. You're the smartest person I know," Brittany said and it sounded so sincere that I knew she believed it.

"You must think I'm stupid if you think I don't know what's going on here."

"Nothing's going on-"

"She's trying to mess with your head, Brittany," Quinn interrupted. "She's trying to make you think that you're like her. That's what they do, they try to confuse you. But you're not like her. Are you?"

Brittany's feet shuffled awkwardly. "Quinn-"

"Because that's what you told me. Were you lying?"

"I wasn't… I wasn't lying," Brittany mumbled.

"I really thought we were past all of that stuff. It was a phase. You got over it. It's not going to happen again. Right?"

"Quinn-"

"Wrong answer."

"Can you just listen to me for a second?" Brittany pleaded. "This is hard enough as it is! I don't want to lie to you and I need you. I need my best friend to be here for me."

"No, you need a reality check," Quinn said. "You do know what's going to happen if you keep this up, right? You're going to ruin everything. If you want to be responsible for this family getting ripped apart again, go ahead. See if I care."

"I'm not trying to rip us apart, but I feel like this is ripping _me_ apart."

Quinn stepped forward and pulled Brittany into a hug that was stiffly reciprocated.

"I don't want you to feel that way, but this girl is only going to mess things up," Quinn whispered. "You can't just think about yourself here, Britt. You need to think about the family. Think about your dad. You know how he gets. You saw how my mom reacted. You know where this is headed if you don't get your priorities in order. Family first, remember?"

"I remember," Brittany said.

"You can't listen to people like your friend," Quinn whispered. "They don't know how important family is, how fragile it is. You do what you have to do to keep it together. Okay?"

"Okay," Brittany whispered and this time, she hugged Quinn back tightly. "I'll do what I have to do."

* * *

><p>I waited for Brittany and Quinn to leave, then I waited an extra ten minutes just in case Quinn forgot an old lady sweater and had to come back for that, too. Despite the mindfuck that Quinn had just laid on Brittany in the form of a familial guilt trip, I had business to attend to. I couldn't help but wonder what the FabrayPierce Clan had been through that bonded them so closely together, but this wasn't the time or place to sit and ponder.

Eventually, I made my way to Shelby's office. I even knocked on the door before entering because my abuela raised me right.

"Come in," Shelby called.

I let the door swing open and I stood in the doorway in a Superman pose, dramatically waiting for her to acknowledge my presence. She just kept typing. When she finally did look up, she looked irritated.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come inside so we can get this over with?"

"_You knew I was coming?"_ I asked incredulously.

"I figured you'd show up eventually," she said, returning to her work. "Shut the door, you're letting in a draft."

I closed the door behind me, utterly confused. This wasn't what I was expecting at all. I thought I'd have the upper hand, the element of surprise. Shelby seemed to be one step ahead of me. I sat down in the chair across from her desk.

"_So if you knew that I was coming, then you should already know what I'm going to say."_

She hit a few keys on her keyboard and turned to face me, leaning back slightly in her rolling chair and crossing her legs under her desk.

"You're pissed off about the article," she stated simply. "I get that. Unfortunately, whether or not your antics are featured in the Lima Times isn't up to me. My hands are tied."

"_How are your hands tied? You're the editor!"_

"Yeah, and what kind of editor would I look like if my paper didn't report on the raging inferno and melodramatic vigilante speech that happened right outside of the freaking building? Do you know how much property damage you caused? Not to mention the whole 'endangering lives' and 'illegal vigilantism' aspect. What did you expect to happen?"

She had a point there.

"_Fine, I'll give you that,"_ I grumbled,_ "but just because I fucked up doesn't mean you can start throwing around slanderous allegations."_

"There was nothing slanderous in that article," she argued.

"_Oh no? What about that whole section where you implied that I killed Bryan Ryan?"_

"If your fingerprints are on the gun, then they're on the gun. I got that information from _your_ boss. It's not my fault if you two didn't work out the details beforehand. Take it up with him if you're pissed off." She tapped her desk impatiently and looked at her watch. "Are we done with this charade yet? Can we move on to the fireworks?"

"_What fireworks?"_ I asked. I looked out of the window like an idiot, half expecting to see fireworks going off in the sky.

She took off her glasses, folded them, and rested them on her desk. "Let's just get this over with. I'd like to go like Bryan did. I don't want to see it coming. Just do that for me, please."

I paused for a second, letting my mind work out what the fuck she was talking about. My glowing eyes almost popped out of my head from behind my sunglasses.

"_Wait, wait, wait. I'm not here to kill you!"_ I shrieked.

"Of course you are," she said matter-of-factly. "I'd actually be more upset if you didn't show up to kill me. It means you all think I'm too stupid to put two and two together and figure out what's going on. It would be an insult to my intelligence to leave me alive."

I stood up, feeling my anger levels rising. _"Crazy Lady, I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Why would I come here to kill you? I saved your life!"_

She stood up and folded her arms across her chest, showing me that she wasn't intimidated just because I wasn't using my Indoor Voice.

"That's what I thought, too," she said. "The facts, however, tell a different story."

"_What facts?"_

"How about the fact that there were two muggings in the same alley and you just magically happened to be present for both of them? Seems a little too convenient if you ask me. Almost like somebody set the whole thing up."

"_Yeah, and if by someone you mean Bryan Ryan, I'd have to agree with you,"_ I replied. _"I'm not the only common denominator here. He was there both times, too."_

She bristled at my comment, backing away from the desk and running her hand through her hair. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she looked down at the framed picture sitting on her desk. It was of her and Bryan, dancing together at some swanky event.

"I know that Bryan was involved. I know he was in on the whole thing."

"_If you know that, why are you trying to make it seem like I was in on it, too?"_

She turned the picture face down on her desk. "Because Bryan Ryan wasn't organized enough to plan a trip to the zoo, let alone two separate muggings. He didn't act alone."

"_And you think I'm involved?"_ I scoffed. _"Why would I be out to get you? I don't even know you and you sure as hell don't know me."_

"You're exactly right. I don't know you. I don't know anyone." She sighed and sat back in her chair. "I didn't even know my best friend well enough to suspect that he was spying on me for Tanaka."

"_Spying on you for Tanaka?"_

She raised an eyebrow at me. "You mean your boss didn't tell you that Bryan was the source of all of his fantastic Shelby Cochran info?"

"_Tanaka's not my boss."_

"You and your mugger buddies were hired by the cops. Let's not play stupid."

I laughed. _"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don't get down with pigs."_

"Oh really?"

"_Yeah, really. I know you think this is all an elaborate charade specifically orchestrated to fuck you over, but I meant what I said in my speech yesterday. My beef is with Finntastic. I don't give two shits about you or Tanaka."_

"And what did the Holy and Revered Mr. Finntastic do to you?" she smirked.

"_My run-in with you and Bryan was purely a coincidence. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time and I wanted to do the right thing," _I explained. _"But when I saw Bryan leading more people into that alley, I tried to save them, too. I took out the baddies by myself, but Mr. Faketastic popped up out of nowhere, choked me, and shot me halfway across the city with his fucking rocket claw. Then he took credit for my hard work and now I'm getting a murder pinned on me when presumably, he saw the whole thing and knows I didn't do it. So yeah, I'm a little ticked off."_

She eyed me for a second, evaluating my story.

"That's… plausible," she admitted. "Not that I believe you, but still. Plausible."

"_Why would I make that up? Seriously, Cochran, you can't possibly be that paranoid."_

She shrugged. "I am. I can't be anything else. You're guilty until proven innocent in my book."

"_If you think the cops are so scummy, why do you even believe that my fingerprints are on the murder weapon? That could be complete bullshit."_

"Because you've had the chance to refute it since you walked in here and you haven't."

I ran my hand over my face, exasperated. _"Look, I know this looks terrible, but I really do try to do the right thing. You don't know me and it probably means nothing to you, but come on! Mugging for hire? I would never be involved in something like that. Ever."_

"That's convincing," she scoffed.

"_No really,"_ I insisted. _"I've been mugged. People I care about have been mugged. That's what happens in West Lima. It's fucking scary. I would never wish that on anyone, even if it means they get to live in a sheltered East Lima bubble for the rest of their lives and look down their snobby noses at me. I would never want to inflict fear on an innocent person, especially not Britt-"_

My mouth snapped closed and I swallowed the rest of my sentence in a painful gulp. While I was busy running my mouth, my brain must have fallen out.

Zippy was right. I did need help.

A delighted smirk lit up Shelby's face. She rested her elbow on her desk and put her chin in her hand.

"'Especially not Brittany,' eh? Well, well, well. _That_ is interesting."

I groaned and put my head in my hands, furious at my stupid blunder.

"You're not a cop or a hired thug" she whispered, still smirking. "Too much sincerity. Too much conviction. But you know her."

"_I don't know anything,"_ I mumbled into my hands. _"Not a single thing."_

"Who are you?" she asked, leaning forward.

I wasn't smart enough to stop myself from saying too much, but I was smart enough not to answer that question.

"_I'm an idiot_. _A big, dumb dummy."_

She squinted at me, tapping her finger against her lips. "I didn't think I would be able to work with you, but this changes things. I have a proposition for you, dummy."

I lifted my face to look at her. _"I'm listening."_

"It's rather simple, in theory," she said. "We both have things that we want. You want your name cleared and Finntastic's head on a pike."

"_That's a little dramatic, but sure, I'll go with it."_

"I want control of my goddamn newspaper again and I want Tanaka to burn in Hell."

"_Sounds reasonable."_

"I propose that we work together to get them all. There's something else going on here. I can feel it. They're putting too much effort into this, so it can't just be about me or the paper. The problem is I don't have any proof. We're sitting on a powder keg. All we have to do is find the fuse and blow everything sky high."

"_Why would I work with you to do that? I could do this on my own, probably quicker."_

"You don't know the first thing about this situation," Shelby laughed. "That's why this partnership works. I have information. You have the mobility. Tanaka's watching me more closely now than ever. You can do things I can't. You're the one that has to find the smoking gun that will bring them all down."

"_You could turn around and sell me out to Tanaka to save your own ass. How do I know I can trust you?"_

"You don't," she said. "I don't trust you, either. That was the problem. I knew I needed someone like you to do this, but you could sell me out to Tanaka, too. That's where Brittany and Quinn come in."

"_Excuse me, what?"_

"Brittany and Quinn are the only people that I know aren't involved in this whole thing. I trust them completely. We both trust them, so we don't have to trust each other. I'll change their assignments. They'll be working with you to blow this thing wide open."

I sat up and pretended to adjust my clothing to give myself time to think. I didn't know if I could work with Brittany and Quinn secretly as my not-Santana self. It would be incredibly weird and pretty dishonest on my part.

Shelby must have sensed my hesitation. "You seem to care about her. I'm sure it was a shock when you woke up this morning and saw that picture she took."

I didn't make any move to acknowledge her statement.

"As soon as you took off from the scene last night, we came inside to start writing the story for the morning paper. She was a little freaked out by your appearance, but for the most part, she seemed fine until Tanaka showed up and dropped that bomb about the fingerprints. He started speculating about how you were probably the ring leader of that gang that mugged them. It must have stirred up some bad memories because after a few minutes of listening to him, she was terrified. The picture on the front page was edited. Looks a hell of a lot scarier than the original photos she took."

"_I already know that she probably hates me,"_ I snapped angrily._ "Why are you telling me this?"_

"Because you have an opportunity to change that perception directly," Shelby said. "Work with her on this. Show her you're not the monster she thinks you are and _find the proof_. Tanaka and Finntastic made her afraid of you. Who do you think came up with the whole 'Menace' thing in the first place? They're going to keep trying to discredit you every time you take a stand against them. We have to take them down."

There was no way I could tell Brittany the truth about my powers or my identity while she thought I was a murderer. The facts made me look pretty bad. This looked like my only chance to change Brittany's mind.

"_I'll do it under one condition. No Fabray. She's too close to Finntastic. I don't need her compromising this whole thing."_

Shelby shrugged. "Fine. Brittany is the one you need. She has some skills that will be useful with some of the things I have."

"_What makes you think Brittany will even want to work with me if she's so afraid?"_

"She'll work with you because I'm her boss and she'll do what I say," Shelby said. "But more than that, Brittany is a 'greater good' kind of person. She'll put aside her personal feelings if it means that the group will thrive."

"_Yeah, I know,"_ I said, bitterly recalling the conversation between Brittany and Quinn.

She clapped her hands together, sealing our fates. "That settles it. I'll need to speak with Brittany to get her prepared and I'll make the initial introduction. After that, you two will be free to do what you need to do."

"_When is that going to happen? Tonight?"_

She waved me off like a pesky fly. "No, no, not tonight. Let's do it tomorrow, same time. I can prep Brittany in the morning."

"_What if I have plans tomorrow?"_

"People who do…" she gestured at my outfit, "this kind of thing typically don't have plans. Now are you going to show up or not?"

"_I'll meet you on the roof. That way I have an exit if you try some funny shit on me."_

"And I'm the paranoid one?" she laughed, swiveling back towards her monitor. She started to type again and I just sat there, waiting.

"Oh, you're dismissed," she said as an afterthought.

"_Whatever." _

I rolled my eyes behind my shades and stood up. I left Shelby's office, flew up to the roof, and retrieved the money bag stashed there.

I hadn't anticipated showing Brittany the not-Santana side of me, but it appeared that the wheels were already in motion. I had to change her mind about me, but it wasn't like I could just take off my hood, say "Surprise!", and make everything better. Santana Lopez's fingerprints were on a murder weapon and Finntastic was going to say that he saw me shoot Bryan. There was no way to explain that. It would just make _both_ sides of me look bad. I needed solid proof that I wasn't involved before I told her that _I_ was actually _me_.

Besides, Brittany could barely deal with the fact that she liked another woman, let alone a super-powered freak. She would probably go running for the hills. I had my work cut out for me.

_I'll make her see that she doesn't have to be afraid of this side of me. At the same time, I can help her be more comfortable with the other side of me, too. If I can do that… maybe one day, she'll want all of me._

* * *

><p>Saturday's edition of the Lima Times was pretty tame. The article on the front page was about the presidential and vice presidential debates that would be taking place at the arena downtown. Everyone was excited because not only was it the first time the debates would be held in Lima, it was also the first time that someone from Lima was running as a candidate of a major party. Even though I thought Mayor Schuester was a tool (and if the rumors were true, that tool would be a hoe), I did feel a tiny twinge of hometown pride about the whole thing. President Howell and Vice President Sylvester would be flying in from Washington to face off with Mayor Schuester and his running-mate, Henri St. Pierre.<p>

The second-largest article in the paper was about the fantastic Mr. Finntastic. He was getting the key to the city for being awesome. Quinn had written the article, but Brittany hadn't taken the picture. I don't know why that upset me. Part of me wondered if she had quit on the spot after Shelby told her about our arrangement. I didn't want to force Brittany to do something she wasn't okay with, but at the same time, it seemed like we would all benefit from working together.

I got to the roof of the Lima Times early so that I'd have a chance to take my sneakers from around my neck and put them on my feet. Shelby Cochran was punctual. The door to the stairwell opened right on time. In the least dramatic way possible, I emerged from my dark corner. Shelby stepped out onto the roof, followed by an extremely nervous looking Brittany.

Brittany and I must have spotted each other at the same time because we both stopped advancing and froze where we stood. Shelby rolled her eyes at both of us and dragged Brittany forward.

"Oh stop it, you two," she said. "We've got work to do and I don't have time for awkwardness."

I approached them slowly and stuck out my hand.

"_Hello, Brittany,"_ I said as pleasantly as I could in my horribly distorted voice. My heart sank into my stomach when she made no move to shake my hand.

"_I've, uh, heard a lot of good things about you,"_ I continued, feeling like a moron.

She frowned at my proffered hand. "I haven't really heard any good things about you."

Shelby sighed. "Pierce, if you're not going to cooperate-"

"I'm not," Brittany said tersely. "You're making me do this, but I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy about it."

"This is something that's going to benefit us all in the long run," Shelby said.

"How? We're re-investigating a crime that the police already solved." She pointed straight at my chest. "_He_ killed Bryan."

"I thought that, too, but it doesn't add up," Shelby said. "Nothing adds up."

"This is a bad idea. We shouldn't be getting involved with him. Let the cops sort this out."

"That's just the thing, Brittany. They're never going to sort it out because they're in on it."

Brittany looked at her disbelievingly, but Shelby continued, turning to me to include me in the conversation.

"Let me give you both a little background. I've been working at the Lima Times for five years now. The last editor-in-chief, as Brittany will remember, was a perverted old man who promoted people based on bra size and how often they'd bend over in front of his desk. He was an expert at dodging sexual harassment lawsuits, but eventually his wandering hands got him into hot water. I was named his replacement six months ago. Ken Tanaka was the one who told me that I was selected for the job. He was sitting in my armchair when I got home from work, smoking a cigar and watching my TV. He said 'congratulations, sweetie. You work for me now.'"

"_So the cops control the Lima Times? How long has that been going on?"_

"I have no idea, but I wasn't going to let them control it anymore."

"That's why we had all of those problems with the cops after you got hired," Brittany said, a light of realization dawning in her eyes. "I knew they didn't like what we were writing in the paper, but I thought they just wanted us to stop. I didn't know they wanted to run the whole thing."

Shelby nodded. "Tanaka outright threatened me daily. They even sent me pre-written articles to run, but I published whatever the hell I wanted. I thought I was tough and that I could handle it. After Bryan and I got robbed, I got a note on my desk that said 'Ready to play nice?' That's how I knew that Tanaka had hired someone to jump us."

"Shelby, that's crazy," Brittany said. "They wouldn't go that far."

"No, they'd go further," Shelby said. "I decided I'd pretend to play nice because really, what options did I have? My best friend had gotten beaten to a pulp, my staff was getting harassed, and I was just over the whole thing. So I put on a good show for Tanaka, but I was planning to research another article in secret, one that would bring the whole police department crumbling down. The problem was I couldn't prove my theories. There were too many loose ends to tie together. I made the mistake of mentioning my article to Bryan. I had no idea he was spying on me and reporting to Tanaka. Tanaka must have decided that I didn't learn my lesson and he took it out on Brittany and Quinn. He set up another mugging and had Bryan lead them to the alley."

She turned to Brittany. "For that, I am truly, truly sorry. I never meant to drag you into this mess."

Brittany accepted her apology with a small nod, but didn't get sidetracked. "Why would your own boyfriend spy on you?"

"Bryan wasn't my boyfriend," Shelby admitted. "I was his best friend, but I was also his beard. His boyfriend kicked him out last year and he moved back to Lima with a coke addiction and a gambling debt that Donald Trump couldn't pay off. I'm guessing Tanaka waved a couple of bucks at him and he threw me under the bus. When I found out that he was at your mugging, I knew that Bryan must have been involved and that he probably set you up, too."

"But if it was just a setup, why was Bryan killed?"

Shelby bit her lip and blinked back tears. "Maybe to show me that they were serious. To finally put me in my place. I don't know."

Brittany turned to me, scowling. "You were there. How do we know you're not in on it, too?"

"_You don't, but I'm not involved. I guess you could say I'm familiar with the area, so I'm near that alley a lot. I thought both of the muggings were real and I tried to save you guys. I wish I could've saved Bryan, but I couldn't. I swear to you, I didn't mug you. I would never hurt you like that."_

It was far too intimate a statement to be made by a stranger. Her skeptical expression turned into a puzzled one and Shelby shot me a warning look.

"This has all been considered," Shelby chimed in, trying to guide the conversation back on track. "The answer is simple: we don't have any reason to trust him. However, our friend here has an axe to grind with Mr. Finntastic, now that his honor has been besmirched. Maybe mutual hatred for the police is all we have to build on for now."

I was relieved when Shelby didn't reveal the fact that I already knew Brittany. I was also surprised that Shelby hadn't mentioned that I was actually female. She was the only one who had heard my real voice while I was in my "costume."

Brittany put her hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry, but this is a lot to take in. I can't believe that Finn would be a part of something like this."

"_He's a cop, Brittany. Don't you find it odd that they're all being nice and friendly now?"_

"These are the same cops who were causing problems for you before all of this happened," Shelby pointed out.

"_The same cops who spray painted 'bitch' on your car."_

"That's not what they wrote on my car," she mumbled to herself. She looked back at me, clearly not pleased. "You have a point, but I'm not Shelby. I'm not going to be so quick to believe your story."

Shelby chuckled. "I don't believe anybody's story, honey. This partnership is a means to an end. If we're successful, everybody wins. If not, our lives can't really suck much worse than they already do. Tanaka has us all right where he wants us. He knows I won't make a move because of what happened to Bryan. He knows our hooded friend can't do much with the threat of a murder investigation swinging over his head. And he thinks you're in his corner because Finntastic, a police officer, allegedly saved your life."

"_We owe it to the people of Lima to find out the truth,"_ I said.

"Fuck the people of Lima. We owe it to ourselves. I think we're scratching the surface of something big here."

"_The thin veneer on the surface of Lima's ugliness?"_ I asked. I highly doubted that Shelby was the person who sent the mystery money, but I figured I'd throw it out there just in case.

She gave me an odd look. "Sure thing, Batman. What do you say. Brittany? Are you in?"

Brittany looked up at the sky and sighed. "I'm probably going to regret this, but yeah, I guess I'm in."

"Excellent," Shelby grinned. "Rest up over the weekend and I'll bring everything I have to you on Monday morning."

"What if this is over our heads, Shelby?" Brittany asked. "We could be stepping into some serious crap here."

Shelby thought about the question for all of two seconds.

"…then I guess we'll have to wear boots."

* * *

><p>Carrying $250,000 USD around with you gets old quick.<p>

Unfortunately, it was the only way I could make sure that the money was safe. I didn't want to leave it in my apartment or car because Grand Theft Auto and Home Invasion were actual majors at West Lima Community College. I considered taking some of it to the bank, but with my luck, the bills would all be counterfeit or stolen and I'd get thrown in the bank dungeon. I was also afraid that I'd have a Blaine-inspired panic attack if I went anywhere near a bank and I didn't want to test out that theory while I had suspicious money on me.

I decided to stash it somewhere relatively safe until I thought of something better. As it turns out, "relatively safe" meant my employee locker at Ladies Night. Mercedes had taken Saturday night off and a guest DJ was supposed to be spinning, so it was the perfect time to go because she wouldn't be there to ask me any questions.

I technically shouldn't still have a locker since I "officially quit" two months before I got kidnapped, but after Harmony's eggs were accidentally fertilized, April needed the extra help. It appeared she didn't need my help anymore because whenever she called me, she talked about everything except Ladies Night and work.

I parked in the back, slipped in the back door unnoticed, and tiptoed down the dark hallway. The hallway led right up to the area next to the bar, so I could see the lit club and hear the pounding music. Everyone was caught up in the party and no one was coming my way. When I reached the door to the employee lounge, I threw it open and ran inside.

Unfortunately, the employee lounge wasn't empty.

Sam was getting changed by his locker. Sugar was sitting on the couch in a Pepto-Bismol-colored mini dress, filing her nails. I walked straight to my locker with my messenger bag, determined to accomplish my mission without being discovered.

"Lopez," Sugar said disinterestedly.

"Motta," I replied. "Trouty."

Sam gave me a wave with one hand and adjusted himself in his red banana hammock with the other.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, fixing his hair with the same hand he'd just shoved into his thong.

"April called me in." The lie rolled off my tongue so easily, it was scary. I fumbled with my combination lock until it finally let the flimsy locker door swing open.

Sugar looked at Sam, who sighed and turned back to his locker.

"That's funny," she said. "April's not even here tonight. She's been out of town this whole week, so I doubt she called you."

That's the problem with lies. Sometimes, they're a gamble.

I cleared some space on the floor of my locker with my foot. When I looked up, Sam's eyes were locked on the bag.

"Fine, you caught me," I said, thinking quickly. "I showed up on the off chance that someone was sick so I could fill in. I need some money."

_Just ignore this large sack of money that I'm holding._

"You should've called first before you just waltzed in here. I doubt I'm allowed to put you out there anyway."

"Oh really? Why's that?"

Sugar set down her nail file. "Because-"

"Sugar," Sam warned. "Don't."

I dropped the bag into my locker and leaned around the locker door to look at Sugar.

"Don't what?" I asked.

Sugar and Sam exchanged looks and I got the distinct impression that people had been talking about me behind my back. If there was one thing I hated about this whole kidnapping business, it was that people treated me like a ticking time bomb and talked to me like I was two seconds away from bursting into tears and/or flames.

Sugar rolled her eyes and turned back to me. "As it turns out, Matt and Sunshine both called in sick. I'm probably going to get chewed out for this, but I'll let you work tonight."

I smiled and gave myself an internal victory fist-pump… until I remembered that I had been lying about wanting to work tonight and I had just talked my way into a fucking shift behind the bar.

Sam looked disapprovingly at Sugar from the other side of the room.

"Bite me, Evans," Sugar snapped. "It doesn't make sense for us to be short-staffed if she's already here."

"As long as you get your money, right?" Sam said acidly. He pulled on his nylon tear-away pants, slammed his locker door, and stormed out with a weird looking helmet under his arm.

"What the fuck was that about?" I asked warily. Sam wasn't usually prone to that type of outburst.

Sugar sighed. "Mercedes has made it very clear that she doesn't want you to be called in for any reason. Not even if all of the bartenders drop dead."

"Seriously? Why?"

"No clue. I just know that she and April have some kind of agreement."

"Well, I don't want you to get in trouble," I said, closing my locker door. "Forget about tonight. I'll just go home."

"Nope, too late. Lips is probably already on the phone tattling on me, so I'm going to get in trouble anyway. You're working tonight."

I groaned internally. I loved Ladies Night, but I really just wanted to curl up in my bed and pretend to sleep.

Sugar stood up from the couch and straightened her dress. "But just so you know, I'm not gonna let you do whatever the hell you want like April does. We need skin behind the bar tonight."

I put my hand up. "Hold the fucking phone! I don't strip."

"You do tonight. Do you know how much liquor we sell based on Mike Chang's abs alone? Only the regulars know that you make the best drinks. Everyone else is here for the skin. So you're dropping trou at 10 with everybody else, Lopez. I hope you shaved."

* * *

><p>At 10:00, Happy Hour ended and I emerged from the bathroom wearing practically nothing.<p>

_This is karma. This is God punishing me for taking mystery money and lying and running around town dressed like a hoodlum._

"I never thought I'd see the day," Aphasia laughed as I stomped behind the bar. She was wearing a tiny pair of blue shorts, a red bra, and Wonder Woman's signature gold headband. The golden lasso slung over her shoulder brought the whole outfit together.

Mike Chang let out a low whistle. "Hot mama, coming through!"

Mike was supposed to be the Silver Surfer. Every visible inch of his body was covered in silver paint, including his rock hard abs.

"Go fuck yourselves, both of you," I muttered.

All I wanted to do was drop off a bag and I ended up standing behind the bar in my own black bra and boy shorts, a red cape, and fake glasses with thick black frames. I was lucky that this particular bra covered up the bullet wound on my boob. That would've been hard to explain.

Aphasia hip-checked me. "Excuse you, Ms. Rude."

I rubbed my temples. "This is not what I wanted out of life today."

"Serving alcohol in your underwear isn't the end of the world," Mike said.

"Yeah, have fun with it," Aphasia chimed in. "Pretend you're a Victoria's Secret model or something."

"I'm more upset that my costume doesn't make any sense." I tugged on my cape. "Am I Superman? Am I Clark Kent? Like, what the fuck is Sugar going for here?"

"Hey, don't complain. This is the best theme night we've had since April went on vacation," Mike said. "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

Aphasia reached around me to grab a bottle of rum. "Get to work, Victoria. The drinks don't make themselves!"

They both walked off, leaving me alone at my end of the bar.

It didn't take very long for the regulars to spot me. Most of them laughed at me because I'd finally broken my solemn vow to never become a strip-tender. It's not that I looked down on the other bartenders for taking off their clothes and doing body shots or whatever weird requests the patrons might make. I wasn't morally opposed, I was just lazy and I didn't want to do it. Interacting with customers at more than a "here's your drink, pay me" level required a lot of people skills that I didn't have and didn't care to acquire. Body shots and paint in particular required a lot of smoldering glances at drunken straight women and sassy banter laced with sexual innuendo.

I didn't want to put on my fake-smile because "like omg, it's Jenny's b-day and she's wasted and she's not a lesbo or whatevs but she totally has a thing for 'fiery Latinas,' so can you let her fish this lemon wedge out of your tits?"

NO. I can't. Too much fucking effort for what will probably be a shitty tip. Take your drink and take a hike.

Unfortunately, some people don't understand this concept.

"It's about time you started showing off that body," Wilma slurred. She winked at me suggestively, but she was so drunk that it looked like she dozed off for a second. "You're getting a little muscle on you. Me likey."

Because of its equal number of male and female strippers, Ladies Night attracted a pretty decent number of lesbians and bisexuals. In my younger, stupider days, I had a habit of getting "friendly" with a few of the regulars until I realized that it's best not to shit where you eat, especially since a girl you shat on might cause a scene when she finds out you're eating someone else.

Live and learn.

Wilma and I were never serious, probably because whenever we hooked up, I couldn't stop thinking about the Flintstones. I once jokingly yelled out "yabba dabba doo" while we were fooling around and that was pretty much the end of that. We hadn't had any physical contact in about three years, but she engaged me in conversation from time to time just to make me feel awkward. I think my partial nudity was like a homing beacon to her. She came over to heckle me for a good ten minutes, distracting me as I hatched my secret plan to dip all of Sugar Motta's tampons in Tabasco sauce and re-wrap them without her noticing.

"Wilma, don't you have something better to do than hassle honest, working folk?"

"I can't leave now, sexy," she smirked. "Not when you're here to give me a free show. Why don't you do a little strip tease for me? You can leave the cape on."

"You're crossing into creepy territory," I warned. "You're at the border. You're about to get your passport stamped."

"What? Am I making you uncomfortable?" She leaned over the bar so that I could see down her shirt. "How about now?"

"I think the pity is starting to overtake the discomfort."

She leaned over so that she was almost falling over onto my side of the bar. I was tempted to ask her if she wanted to take off _her_ clothes and finish my shift so I could go home. She reached for me and I stepped back.

"Come on, Santana. You, me, and the handicapped stall. For old times' sake." She swayed back and forth a little, giving me what she probably thought was a really sexy look.

A hand reached up and grabbed her shoulder. It was Brittany. I was relieved to be rescued until I saw the look on Brittany's face. She was not pleased.

"Climbing on the bar is dangerous. You should sit down before you hurt yourself."

"Back off, blondie. Get your own." Wilma wiggled a little to break free from Brittany's grip, but she was too drunk to pull it off.

Brittany yanked Wilma's shoulder and Wilma sat down hard on her stool.

"Santana's not yours," Brittany said firmly, "So _you_ go get your own."

Wilma blinked, probably confused as to why she was suddenly sitting. She looked back and forth between me and Brittany. "Oh, is she _yours_ then?"

Brittany's eyes darted around us quickly. "No, but I'm pretty sure she's not into sloppy, drunk messes, so I doubt she's interested in you."

Wilma slid off of her barstool, too drunk to be insulted. "Whatever, blondie. Been there, done that, bought the shot glass."

Brittany's eyes flickered to mine briefly and she looked away. I decided that I was embarrassed enough for one night.

"Get lost, Wilma. Preferably in bear-infested woods, if you can manage it."

"See you around, Santana. Hopefully sooner rather than later." She winked again as she walked away, but stumbled into the girl behind her and spilled her drink, ruining her whole exit.

I smiled at Brittany, but when she turned her glare on me, I realized that Wilma probably wasn't the person she was mad at in the first place.

"Hey, B," I said as her glare wilted my smile. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"Rachel sold some songs, so we came here to celebrate" she said, barely acknowledging my question. She frowned deeply at my lack of attire. "Why are you naked?"

I was caught off guard by her reaction.

_She seemed to like the Spongebob underwear._

"I'm not like, _naked_ naked," I said, looking down at myself.

"Uh, yeah you are," she replied. "You're not wearing any clothes. You're naked."

She was pissed.

"Are you okay?" I asked. I grabbed a shaker and started mixing a Long Island for her because I didn't know what else to do.

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "I just don't get... like, you've got on a cape, but you're not even wearing pants."

"Nobody else is wearing pants," I said. "Everyone is always pretty much naked here which, in my opinion, is incredibly unsanitary."

"But _you're_ never naked," she huffed. "_You_ don't do that kind of stuff, remember?"

"Why are you getting mad? I'm the one serving drinks in my naughty shorts!"

I shook her drink up, poured it in a glass, and put it on the bar. She didn't even look at. She just stood there and glared at me.

"You're not even gonna drink it?" I asked. "There are thirsty kids in Africa, Britt."

"You didn't do any tricks," she said petulantly.

I let my head fall back so that I was staring at the ceiling. "You've gotta be kidding me right now."

"When you don't do the tricks, you use way more Triple Sec than you're supposed to," she said.

"No, I don't," I protested. "I use the same amount of Triple Sec as I do everything else."

She shook her head, pushing the glass away. "You're _supposed_ to, but you always put too much Triple Sec. Trust me, I've had like, a thousand of yours. It's too orange-y."

I thought about it for a second. The Triple Sec bottle was oddly shaped. It had a wide neck and an even wider base, so it took a little more effort to get a good grip on it when I wasn't tossing it up in the air.

_Am I not starting my count until after I've already got the liquor flowing? When she said that it tastes better when I do tricks… was she serious?_

My pride wouldn't let me admit that I'd been fucking up all drinks that included Triple Sec for years.

"No way, I use equal amounts of everything," I said stubbornly. "I think I know how to make a Long Island."

She just rolled her eyes at me. "Whatever."

She turned on her heel and started pushing through the crowd. I picked up her abandoned drink and took two deep gulps.

_She's right. There's too much Triple Sec in this._

"Fucking great," I muttered, walking around the bar and heading in the direction she took off in. A few well-placed elbows opened up some walking space for me and I caught up with her just as she darted into the bathroom. I followed her inside. After checking under the stalls to make sure the place was empty, I locked the door behind me. Brittany was facing the opposite wall, tapping her foot anxiously.

"Britt," I said softly, putting my hand on her arm. "What's wrong?"

She turned around and leaned back against the wall next to the hand dryer. "It just bothers me, that's all."

"What bothers you?"

She gestured to my underwear clad body. "_This._ You're not wearing any clothes and everyone's looking at you."

"No one's paying any attention to me," I said. "I'm making drinks like I've been doing for years. I'm just doing it with less clothes on than normal."

"Santana, I've been here for twenty minutes already. Girls are looking at you like you're a sexy sirloin steak and they just want to eat you up with mashed potatoes and corn."

"Corn on the cob or nibblet corn?"

She thought about it for a second. "Nibblet corn. Corn on the cob gets stuck in my teeth."

"What about the potatoes? Are they the kind with the skin?"

"Yeah, garlic mash. Restaurant style."

"Can I substitute French fries or-"

"Santana."

"Sorry."

I had seen Brittany get jealous when she met Tina, but that time she was sad. This time she was angry. It probably had something to do with the fact that her ex-boyfriend was a cheating dog. She was probably used to seeing all girls as threats. Tommy had a wandering willy.

She pushed off the wall and came to stand in front of me. "When I walked in and I saw you naked and talking to that girl, I thought maybe you decided you didn't want to wait for me to figure my crap out."

"I told you, I'm not naked and you're the only one I'm interested in. Nobody else." I scratched my head. "But to be perfectly honest… I don't always know where I stand with you and it makes me nervous."

"Nervous?" she asked, looking adorably confused.

"After the breakfast incident, I would've bet a million dollars that you were going to tell me you didn't want to see me anymore. When you get scared, you drop my hand and push me away. I never know how hard you're going to push and it makes me really nervous."

"I'm sorry for pushing." She took my hand as if to make up for the times when she had abandoned it. "I react before I think and my first reaction is always to push. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"Look, you don't have to explain-"

"I do," she insisted. "I want you to understand."

I shushed her. "Britt-"

"After you left, Judy… she said a lot of things. About gay people. I mean, she says that kind of stuff all the time, so it's not like it's new. She always talks about the Mr. Berrys and how great it is that they let us stay in their condo and how they're nice men, but too bad they're _gay_, like that has anything to do with anything. She can't stand Rachel. But she started talking about you and how I should be careful and how it was probably better not to hang out with you. I just sat there and listened to her. It made me sick. I realized that's how I must have made you feel when I was talking to you in the hall, like you were something to be ashamed of."

"You're not like her, B." I tried to free my hand so that I could comfort her, but she clutched my wrist tighter and rubbed her thumb against my veins.

"I am like her though, in some ways," she said sadly. "When someone helps raise you, you pick up little pieces of them, even if you don't want to. She thinks that this is wrong and that's a piece of her that I'm still trying to get rid of. There's still this part of me that's always ready to push those feelings away."

She blushed deeply and looked down, but that just drew her eyes to my cleavage, so she lifted her head and looked past my ear.

"I know that it's not wrong and I keep telling myself that, but when I think about being with you and how I can't even tell my best friend about us... I kinda feel ashamed."

"You're still learning to accept yourself and the things that you want." I let her continue to rub nervous circles into my skin despite the fact that it was starting to hurt. "You have to unlearn all of that negative stuff and stop judging yourself by Judy's values."

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"It's okay. I was there once, Brittany. I know how it can be and it's difficult, but not impossible."

"I feel like I'm wasting time that you could be spending with a girl who can be what you need. I thought you'd get mad at me for talking to Wilma like that. I'm not your girlfriend. It's not my place to tell people not to hit on you."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?' I asked carefully.

She let out a sharp laugh. "Santana, I don't even know what that would mean. I can't even wrap my head around that."

"It means the same thing it always means: two people like each other and they want to spend time together in an exclusive relationship. It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that."

"It's already more complicated than that," she said. "We would have to keep it a secret. My family can't find out."

She looked straight into my eyes making sure I understood every word.

"My family is very fragile," she said, using Quinn's word from their conversation. "I know my dad would love me even if I started dating Lord Tubbington, but Judy's not the same way. If she found out about us, it would probably ruin everything. She'd probably leave."

"She'd leave your dad just because she doesn't agree with your sexuality?"

"She's left before," Brittany said. "Mo needs her. He's not a good dad when he's by himself and he's the only dad the four of us have. Mojo and Frannie would be split up. I can't be selfish and hurt everyone like that."

"Accepting your sexuality isn't selfish," I countered. "It's selfish for them to ask you to hide that part of yourself."

"I don't want to argue about this. I hate that we have to keep this a secret, but it's the only way. My family is important to me. You do what you have to do to protect your family."

_Gee, where have I heard that before?_

"Please, San," she pleaded. "Don't make me choose. I want this to work, but I can't choose."

"I won't make you choose," I assured her. "I told you that you could have both your family and me. I meant that."

Brittany pulled me in close, raising her hands to gently cup my face. "Do I really have you? I wanted to tell that stupid girl that you were mine, but I don't even know what that would be like, to have you. To have a girl belong to me. Or to belong to a girl."

She tilted my chin up and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

_1._

"But that's what I want," she mumbled against my mouth. "To be yours. I've wanted that so bad, but I don't know how to..."

She caught my lips again, deepening the kiss, and I balled my hands into fists.

_2._

It felt like forever since I'd kissed her. She slid her hands down my neck to my shoulders, letting one rest there and gently stroke at my collarbone while the other toyed with my bra strap.

"You have me now," I whispered.

Her tongue slid into my mouth and despite my internal protests, I eagerly accepted the visit from my favorite organ. Brittany's hand slid lower, not letting her fingers leave the bra strap, but allowing the side of her hand to graze the cup.

_3._

_Stop it. Now._

I closed my eyes and willed myself to stop. I wasn't prepared for this. I pulled back and nipped at her lip.

"Hold on."

She licked her lips, then mine. I could feel her smile against my mouth. "I was right. Too much Triple Sec."

I bit back the moan that threatened to come out at the thought of her tasting me.

_4._

_You can't handle this._

"Hold on a sec," I whispered.

She sucked my bottom lip into her mouth and let her other hand drop from my collar bone down to the side of my other breast, hovering nearby but not making a move. I wanted her to touch me so badly. I wanted to see the look on her face when she touched my breasts, when she showed me that she wanted me and that she wasn't afraid of the feminine parts of me. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to _see_ anything because I had fucking laser eyes.

_You'll blow her up, champ._

I reluctantly broke the kiss and pressed our foreheads together, cursing myself internally.

"Brittany," I panted, shaking my head to clear it of the Glowing, Fuzzy Buzz. "Slow down."

"Okay." She stole one last peck and pressed her nose into my cheek.

We stood that way for a moment, just resting against each other.

"Santana?" she asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Since I have you now, do you think 'girlfriend' is maybe something we could work up to?"

"Sure, we could do that," I said, thinking quickly of how one "works up" to such a title. "What if… what if I took you out? On a date?"

Brittany jerked upright as her spine snapped straight. "A what?"

"A date," I repeated.

"Santana, we can't just-"

"Before you panic, let me explain." I put my finger to her lips and she held her breath, watching me with wide eyes. "We can go on a secret date."

"A secret date?" she asked skeptically.

"Exactly. We'll go somewhere relatively private. That way we don't have to worry about your family barging in or people you know seeing us before you're ready." I brought her hands to my lips and kissed each one in turn. "Maybe you can get a feel for what it's like to be with me. To be my girlfriend. If you like it, we can go from there."

A blush crept up her neck. "How private? Because I'm not ready for…"

"We won't see anyone you know, I promise. Come on, B. Meet me halfway here. I can show you if this is really what you want and you," I swallowed hard and looked down at my shoes, "you can show me that you're serious about this. That I'm not just… an experiment or whatever."

Brittany yanked my chin up so fast, I thought my head was going to pop off.

"Is that really what you think this is for me?" she asked fervently. She searched my eyes looking for her answer, but my hesitation spoke volumes.

In the end, the only words I could manage to squeak out were "I worry about it."

She rested her forehead against mine again, letting out a long exhale. "Jesus, Santana. That's not it at all."

I felt awkward for saying it, but it was something that had crossed my mind.

"Okay," she said firmly. "Let's do it. It sounds like something we both need."

I took off my stupid cape and draped it over her shoulders, grinning goofily at her. "It's a date."

She looked down at my body, slowly taking me in. "Now can you put your clothes on? I really don't like that you're walking around naked."

"Once again, I'm not naked," I said. "I'm only dressed like this because Sugar likes to power trip when April's not here and she told me I had to."

"Does she take theme suggestions? I think I might have to ask her if you guys can be nuns." She reached up to tie the cape around her neck and adjusted my glasses. "I meant to ask you about your costume. Are you supposed to be Superman or Clark Kent?"

"When you find out, make sure to let me know."

* * *

><p>Rachel and Brittany's designated driver decided to undesignate herself with a ridiculous amount of vodka, so I ended up driving them back to Rockmore. Apparently, Rachel had invited a group of their friends out to celebrate her work on Holly Holiday's new album.<p>

Holly Holiday was a guilty pleasure of mine. She was one of those ageless magical beings, like Madonna. Her cover of "Do You Wanna Touch?" rocked my babygay world in ninth grade. The first time I saw the music video, my abuela was sitting on the couch next to me, reading the Bible. I left the room halfway through the song, took Mr. Ziggles out of his box, and just held him in front of my face without blinking for a good fifteen minutes. I already had a pretty good idea of what I was, but I had never seen anything like _that_. I didn't tell Ziggles anything that day. I put him back in the box, whispered "this never happened," and went back to the living room.

There were a lot more Holly Holiday posters in my room after that.

"Holly said that she wants to use 'Get It Right' as the first single and while I'm completely supportive of the decisions she makes as an artist, I couldn't help but suggest that she wait for us to finish writing before she decides on a final track listing. Not that it will hurt the album. After all, any song that I've written is bound to be successful."

What Loud lacked in humility, she made up for in volume.

"I can't believe you wrote 'Loser Like Me,'" I said, trying not to fangirl all over the car. "That was my anthem back in the day!"

"I got an early start on my songwriting. I could've started my career then, but my dads refused to let me go into the music industry without at least finishing high school. They told Holly she'd have to wait until I perfected my craft. On the day I graduated from college, she called me up and said 'when can we start?'"

"I'm so proud of you, Rachel," Brittany beamed. "I can't wait to hear the album."

"I bet Santana's heard some of it already," Rachel said.

"Why would I have heard it?" I asked, parallel parking in front of their building.

"Holly bought some of Mercedes's songs. She didn't tell you?"

I almost slammed into the car behind me as I backed into the space.

"Oh yeah, of course," I said, trying to play off the fact that my best friend hadn't told me the biggest fucking news of all time. "She just keeps that stuff under wraps. I have to wait until the album comes out like everybody else."

Rachel nodded. "The mark of a true artist."

My responding smile looked like more of a grimace. The logical part of my brain knew that I couldn't be upset at her for keeping her news from me. After all, I was keeping a few secrets of my own.

I put the car in park and opened my door. "Well, ladies. It's been fun."

"Thanks for the ride, Santana," Rachel said.

"No problem. I'll walk you up."

We took the elevator up to their condo and just as Rachel pulled out her key to unlock the door, it swung open and Quinn was there smiling at us.

"Well hello, roomies," she said, leaning against the door frame. Her eyes landed on me, but she didn't acknowledge my presence.

"And Santana," Brittany prompted. "You forgot to say hello to Santana."

Quinn wasn't expecting to be called out. Her smile faded and she stared blankly at me.

"Hello, Santana," she said flatly.

I cringed internally because every time she said my name, a piece of my soul died. "Hi, Quinn."

"What are you doing up?" Rachel asked.

"I figured Lisa would get wasted and you guys would call me for a ride home, but I guess my services weren't needed."

"Oh! You didn't have to wait up for us," Brittany said.

"It's okay, I invited some friends over to pass the time." Quinn pulled the door open all the way and Rachel walked past her into the apartment. I stood awkwardly in the hallway next to Brittany.

"I, uh, I think I'm gonna head out," I whispered to Brittany.

"Hold on, let me put my stuff down and I'll give you back your cape."

"You can keep-"

The sound of Rachel's shrieking echoed around the entryway. We all looked at each other, but Quinn just shrugged.

Brittany quickly walked inside. I moved to follow her, but as I did, Quinn grabbed my arm.

"All you had to do was leave her alone," she said into my ear. "Guess what? You lose. Game over."

"Take your meds, Fabray." I broke out of her hold and walked through the entryway.

Rachel was standing in the living room, glaring angrily at the two men that were sitting on her couch. One of them I recognized as the Incredible Edible Finn. He looked dopier than ever, which I didn't think was possible. I attributed it to the empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

Brittany stood behind Rachel, looking like she was about to go into shock. The second guy stood up when she walked in. He was tall with dirty blond hair and an athletic build, the kind of guy that would be in an Abercrombie ad, playing Frisbee with a golden retriever or some shit like that. He was wearing a pair of blueish-green scrubs and when he smiled, every one of his pearly white teeth gleamed in the florescent lights.

I don't know how I knew who he was, but the second I saw him, my heart fell into my shoes. He rounded the coffee table, ignoring Rachel's fury and coming to a stop in front of Brittany.

"Hey, Britt-Britt," he said gently. Intimately. "Long time no see."

In a voice so quiet, I could barely hear it, Brittany returned his greeting.

"Hi, Tommy."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** That motherfucker Tommy. You knew he was gonna pop up eventually!

I like Zippy. I don't know why, but he sounds like Stromboli from Pinocchio in my head.

I didn't mention it in the chapter and I'm not about to go back and write it in, but Sam's dressed as Thor. Thor in a thong. He's got a hammer and everything.

I had to cut out a lot of things that I really wanted to go in this chapter, but such is life. At least that stuff is already written so I can just copy/paste it into the next chapter (in theory).

Fun Fact: the word "naked" was said ten times in this chapter.

Until Chapter 13,  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	13. Menace, Malice, Madness, Mayhem

**A/N: **If you're still reading this, thank you.

I know long waits have the tendency to make people lose interest and completely forget about fics. Please know that I appreciate every single one of you. All of the support that this story gets (even when I'm being an epic fail) blows my mind. Thank you, thank you, and thank you.

Just a reminder: the violence warning is still in effect.

Disclaimer: Glee, I know RIB created you, but why you let 'em treat you so bad, girl?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13: Menace, Malice, Madness, Mayhem<strong>

A word of advice:

If you ever find yourself in a room with your closeted almost-girlfriend, her jerk of an ex-boyfriend, her extremely loud roommate, her homophobic bestie, and the bestie's cop boyfriend who is partially responsible for a smear campaign directed at your secret alter ego… walk out. Just turn around and walk out.

Most people don't have to be told this. I wish someone would have told _me._

A full two minutes passed between Brittany's greeting and the next human utterance. During this awkward moment of silence, I took a quick look at the five other people in the room and realized that I would gladly set three of them on fire without a second thought.

_Well, _that's_ a good thing to know about myself._

I knew exactly who I'd start with, too.

Quinn was still standing in the hallway, giving me the smuggest grin she could muster. She was obviously pleased with herself. It was nauseating. Tommy's sly smile broadened as he broke the silence, still using that incredibly intimate voice that was making me highly uncomfortable.

"What's the matter, Britt-Britt? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Brittany _had_ seen a ghost. The ghost of her last relationship was standing in the middle of the room, smiling at her like they were going to reminisce about the good old days over an ice cold brew. She coughed nervously as her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink.

"Nothing, I just- I didn't expect to see you here," Brittany said, visibly flustered. "You caught me by surprise, that's all."

"Yes, and what a pleasant surprise it is," Rachel said sarcastically as she performed the slowest, most dramatic eye roll in the history of ocular gestures. "What exactly are you doing here, Tommy?"

"I was just finishing up my shift at the hospital when Quinn called me," he said, never taking his eyes off of Brittany. "It's been a while since I've been able to grace you lovely ladies with my presence, so here I am."

He punctuated his statement with an eyebrow wiggle and I couldn't take it anymore.

"Give me a fucking break."

Every head in the room snapped towards me.

_Oh. I guess I said that out loud, then._

"Who's that?" Finn asked in a loud, drunk whisper.

I suppressed the urge to violently shake him by the throat and scream "you know exactly who I am, motherfucker." The only problem was that he _didn't_ know who I was. Finn and I were having our first meeting sans costume. This is a rare and special event, usually only experienced by masked superfolk and furries.

"Tommy, Finn, this is my friend, Santana," Brittany said nervously.

Finn stood up from the couch and staggered over to me. To my surprise, he stuck out his massive paw as a form of greeting. I stared at his hand blankly, waiting for it to disappear from my sight. There was no way in hell I was shaking that thing. Just because we were meeting for the "first time" didn't mean I was going to pretend that I didn't already hate his guts.

"You must be Brittany's friend that Quinn is always yelling about. I'm Finn Hudson, also known as Mr. Finntastic." He straightened his posture and flashed the same shit-eating grin he used in every single photo. "You probably recognize me from the news."

I wanted to slap that grin right off his face and stomp on it. I looked him up and down before shaking my head.

"Never heard of you."

The grin slowly faded and his mouth hung open uncertainly. "You haven't?"

"Nope. I don't know any Mr. …" I pretended to think for a second, then snapped my fingers together. "Oh wait! You're that stripper from Scandals, right? Mr. Fun Stick!"

Finn's face turned beet red. "No! It's Finntastic! Mr. Finntastic! The cop! With the suit! And- and the-"

Brittany stepped in front of me, putting her hand on top of Finn's hand and pushing it down.

"She's kidding, Finn," she said reassuringly. "She knows who you are."

He seemed to relax a bit. Apparently, being mistaken for a gay stripper was no laughing matter. Brittany gave me a dirty look.

"Don't tease him," she whispered.

"What? It's all in good fun." I tried not to laugh because she was clearly not amused.

"I know, but…" She watched Finn as he drunkenly lumbered around the coffee table and returned to his seat, knocking over a half-full beer bottle that had been precariously perched on the table's edge. Rachel shrieked as dark brown liquid spilled onto the plush white carpet. Finn mumbled an apology and attempted to clean the mess by rubbing his shoe into the stain, which only made Rachel shriek louder and swat at his leg.

Brittany didn't even react to Rachel's antics. She was still studying Finn. Her expression was unreadable.

"Just don't upset him, okay?" she whispered. "I don't want anything to… just be nice."

I let out a sigh and was about to make a snarky comment when I realized that Tommy was looking at us. Brittany had drifted closer than what the Laws of Personal Space would typically allow so that she could whisper without Finn overhearing. Tommy had noticed. His eyebrow was raised and his smirk had vanished. As Rachel brushed past everyone to run into the kitchen, Tommy stepped over the beer stain and made his way over to us.

"So you're the famous Santana," he chuckled. "I've heard so much about you. It's so weird meeting you for the first time. It feels like I'm being introduced to an old friend."

That surprised me. I didn't know Tommy had heard of me. Brittany's face turned bright red and she exchanged a look with Tommy that I didn't understand.

I crossed my arms over my chest, not feeling the least bit friendly. "And you're the infamous Tommy. It's weird meeting you, too. It feels like I'm slowly stepping onto a bag of flaming dogshit."

Quinn, who had moved her nosy ass closer to the action, looked appalled. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Santana!" Brittany hissed.

I gave not a single fuck.

Tommy frowned distastefully. "Don't believe everything you hear."

"Sound advice," I replied. "You should follow it as well."

Rachel stormed back into the room with a wet cloth and a large towel. Finn fumbled around uselessly, attempting to help clean up the beer, but she snapped at him and he fell back onto the couch.

"So Tommy," Quinn said. "You seem to have a free social calendar these days."

He winked at her. "You know what they say. All work and no play makes Tommy a-"

"-dickhead," I fake-coughed into my hand.

Brittany's lips tightened ever so slightly. I could tell she was getting annoyed, but I wasn't going to be nice to this douchebag. Not after how he treated her.

To Tommy's credit, he took my comment in stride and didn't miss a beat. I missed some of what he said because I was not at all interested, but as he ended his little monologue, he gave Brittany a meaningful look.

"I've been trying to make time for the important things," he said. "There's no point in becoming the world's leading cardiothoracic surgeon if I don't have anyone to share my life with."

_Is that what they call it now? "Sharing your life"? You "share your life" with everything that has a vagina._

"I'm glad you finally realized that," Quinn said, giving him an approving nod.

Tommy laughed. "It took me awhile. I'm a little hardheaded." He knocked on his own empty skull for emphasis.

Brittany gave a disinterested chuckle and discreetly glanced at her watch.

"You know, since you have a little more free time, why don't you come to lunch with Brittany and I tomorrow?" Quinn suggested.

"Um… lunch?" Brittany asked, frowning.

Quinn nodded way too enthusiastically. "We can have lunch at the mall right after Finn gets his key to the city."

"Um… the mall?"

I was beginning to recognize Brittany's stalling technique.

"Actually, that sounds great," Tommy piped up. "The hospital is close by, so it's really convenient and not at all out of the way."

"I don't know if… I mean, I think I might have something to do…"

"Come on, Brittany," Quinn pleaded. "It'll be fun. Just like old times."

Except for Brittany's parts, the whole conversation sounded like a badly written script. I was done with Quinn's bullshit.

"Oh for fucks sake," I muttered. "This is ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" Quinn asked, ready to pounce.

I shook my head. "Nothing, just ignore me. Keep setting up this lunch date. It's clear that Brittany's thrilled. Because that's what everyone wants, right? To have lunch with their ex."

"Nobody asked you," Quinn said. "Brittany doesn't need a spokesperson. She can speak for herself."

I almost burst out laughing. "Only when you let her, right? I'm all for letting Brittany speak, but how about we skip the part where you rope her into something she doesn't want to do and then swoop in to tell her she's wrong every time she has a fucking _feeling_?"

Brittany stepped between us, livid.

"Brittany's right here, you know," she hissed, "and she thinks both of you should be quiet. Like now."

We both sheepishly averted our gazes while Brittany glared at us. The room was uncomfortably silent.

"As entertaining as all of this is turning out to be," Rachel called from the floor, still scrubbing the carpet, "I think it's time for everyone who doesn't live here to relocate."

Tommy wasn't going to be deterred. He lowered his voice even more so that I could barely hear him. "I was actually hoping for a chance to talk to you, Britt-Britt. Alone."

"Alone" was the last thing I wanted them to be. Unfortunately, being someone's dirty little secret means that you forfeit your right to publicly object to such things.

Maybe I forgot that for a few seconds.

"Fuck _that_," I grumbled, not quite under my breath.

"Stop."

The whispered word wasn't loud enough to be heard by anyone else but me. Brittany didn't even look at me when she said it. Her tone was enough to tell me that it was time to shut my mouth. She turned to her ex-lover and squared her shoulders.

"Tommy," she said authoritatively. "Go to my room. We can talk there."

"Sure thing," he said. He walked down the hall and disappeared.

Quinn swayed triumphantly across the room, making sure to walk right in front of me. I would've tripped her if Brittany hadn't been watching me. I avoided her eyes. I didn't know what kind of expression was on my face, but I knew it wasn't good. Rachel, on the other hand, didn't give a damn. She stood up stomped her foot like a toddler.

"Brittany! You can't just let him walk in here and try to sweet talk you!" she cried.

"It's okay," Brittany said calmly. "It'll only be a few minutes. I got this. I promise."

I knew that her comments were directed at me, but I didn't even look up. I was pissed. I knew she had only agreed to _talk_ to him, but it felt like she was _choosing_ him over me. I didn't know what he was going to say or offer her.

_A West Lima loser vs. a future surgeon. Tough choices._

I needed to hear that conversation.

_You can, you know. You've got that ability…_

During my training, we'd discovered that I had super hearing, but not super sight because of my eye beams. It was an easy enough ability to use. The more you charged up, the better you could tune your hearing. We hadn't used it much, just a few times to show that it worked.

_Piece of cake._

"Are you guys gonna be okay out here?" Brittany asked, glancing at Finn. It was clear to me that something about him was making Brittany uncomfortable.

Quinn gave her a weird look. "We'll be fine, Britt. It's just the living room. Stop stalling and go talk to Tommy."

_2._

I couldn't charge up any higher without making my eyes glow. I focused the flow of energy to my ears, which began to tingle in an unpleasant way. Brittany walked down the hall and into her bedroom, letting the door slam behind her. I let out an embarrassing squeak as the amplified sound rattled around in my head.

As soon as the door closed, Rachel exploded.

"You called _Tommy_?!" If Rachel's voice was loud without super hearing, it was deafening with super hearing. "How could you do that, Quinn?"

"Don't lecture me, Berry." Quinn sat down on the couch and propped her feet up on the coffee table next to the beer bottles. "I'm just putting a stop to all of this… madness that's been going on before it gets anymore out of control."

"It's all about control with you, isn't it? If you would just stop trying to control Brittany and let her make her own decisions-"

"I _am_ letting her make her own decisions," Quinn snapped. "As you can see, _she_ decided to go talk to Tommy alone. Brittany was coming to her senses anyway. Tommy's just a little bit of insurance."

I focused my hearing out of the room and into Brittany's room, trying to pick up on her conversation with Tommy. Brittany's voice slowly came into focus and I caught the end of what she was saying.

"-what you're really doing here."

Tommy cleared his throat and I heard the distinct sound of shoes shuffling on carpet.

"I just came by to see how you were doing. I heard about the mugging-"

"That was over a week ago, Tommy. You didn't even call."

"Hon, you know how crazy it gets at the hospital."

"You have time to drink with Quinn, you have time to meet us for lunch, but you didn't have a free minute all week to call and see if I was okay?"

Loud Berry's voice smashed my concentration and brought my focus back into the living room.

"You were perfectly content to let Tommy walk all over your best friend for years, but you can't let her do what will make her happy!"

"You think being with a guy like him is the worst thing in the world?" Quinn yelled. "I'm not about to let her ruin her life over something that doesn't even matter!"

She gestured wildly at me and even though I was barely listening to them, I made sure to look offended.

"Doesn't _matter_?" Rachel roared back. "Who are you to say that her sexuality doesn't matter?"

Suddenly, Brittany's voice got louder, blocking out whatever Quinn's response was.

"Take _me_ back?" she shrieked. "I broke up with _you_!"

This was news to me. I knew nothing about how the breakup had come to pass.

"Yeah, and we both know why that happened," Tommy scoffed.

"Tommy, for the last time, I did not cheat on you!"

"I'm really supposed to believe that? You broke up with me out of nowhere, Brittany. If you weren't under somebody else, you were about to be."

"Cheating's your thing, not mine," she said. "You weren't even good at it. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what you were doing every night."

"Good, because you're not a rocket scientist, Britt. You never have been."

I was about to reach through the wall and choke him for talking to her like that, but Loud and Mean's screechfest was coming to a head.

"I'm getting really tired of you getting on your little gay soap box and trying to preach to me!" Quinn yelled.

"I'm tired of having to tiptoe around your prejudices!" Rachel shouted back. "Every time I bring a girl home, it's like World War III!"

"Is there any more beer in the fridge?" Finn asked no one in particular.

I thought listening to two conversations at once would be like talking on the phone while watching TV. It was more like randomly switching back and forth between two blaring radio stations, both playing banjo-accordion death metal. It took a lot of effort to focus on a single conversation and I couldn't hold it for long. My focus started flipping rapidly between random voices, causing my head to throb.

"-you think I didn't notice that after you drunk dialed me, the cops started writing 'slut' on my car instead of 'bitch'? I know you have friends at the police department-"

"-some half-naked girl cooking breakfast in my kitchen! I shouldn't have to see that kind of shit going on in my own home! It's not right!"

"-can't prove that I had anything to do with that… but if the shoe fits…"

"-preaching morality to me when you're sleeping with a man you _just met_!"

Finn leaned forward and whispered, "Is she talking about me?"

"I don't even know who's talking," I groaned, rubbing my temples.

"-I've been putting up with it for Brittany's sake, but your behavior is atrocious and I'm not putting up with it anymore!"

"You don't have to put up with 'my behavior!' If you don't like it, you can-"

"-put all this shit behind us, Brittany. Everything can go back to the way it was."

"I don't want things to go back to the way they were, Tommy. I… I think I have a chance at really being happy now."

"If I'm not mistaken, the lease says 'Berry' on it, not Fabray! So if you'd like to leave, feel free to-"

"Happy with who? The bartender?"

"Wha-what? What are you talking about?" Brittany stammered. Her voice instantly began to fade out as Quinn started speaking, but I gritted my teeth and threw all of my mental focus into Brittany's room.

_Come on, don't lose it now!_

"Quinn told me all about how that friend of yours is trying to get in your pants. Knowing you, you probably already let her."

"That's not true," Brittany said angrily.

"Really? I mean, I did find it a little hard to believe that you were a carpet muncher because you've been such a big fan of my dick for all these years, but she's a hot little number. I can see why you'd get curious. You haven't taken her for a spin? Let her see what's under the hood?"

"Tommy, I could take the mailman 'for a spin' and it still wouldn't be any of your business."

"You probably have. You do have a reputation, after all."

Something that sounded a lot like a slap to the face went down in there. No one spoke. I tilted my head to the side, hoping that I could adjust some invisible antennae and hear Brittany's thoughts or something.

That's when I realized that Quinn and Rachel had stopped arguing. They were both staring at me. Reluctantly, I powered down and I brought my full attention back to the living room.

"What?" I asked, feeling self-conscious.

Quinn narrowed her eyes at me. "Why do you look like that?"

It did look kinda weird. I'd just been glaring off into space and grinding my teeth together like a lunatic.

"I'm just, uh, disgusted with your desperation," I said, recovering quickly. "Clearly, you find me threatening if you went to all this trouble to drag Tommy over here."

"You should be quaking in your flannel boxers, bartender," she said acidly. "Brittany's not a risk taker. She likes to play it safe and Tommy's as safe as they come. You? _You're _a risk. A hazard. A fucking phase. She'll be over you by the end of the month and back with Tommy before you can say 'bicurious.'"

"Fuck. You," I growled, pointing straight at her face so that there wouldn't be any confusion as to who I was talking to.

"No, fuck you!" Quinn shot back.

"Now, ladies," Finn said calmly. "There's no need for-"

"Fuck you too, you walking can-opener!" I figured I might as well yell at Finn while I had the chance. I turned back to Quinn. "Tommy's safe? Tommy should have his own parking space at the free clinic! Do you know how many times he's cheated on Brittany? How many times he's lied? How much he fucking ignored her? What a great friend you are, bringing that guy here and throwing all of her pain back in her face like it doesn't even matter."

"Tommy's a dick, but he's a future. He's marriage. He's 2.5 kids, a minivan, and a white picket fence. You're a dead end."

"Who wants a future with a manipulative and verbally abusive asshole? What kind of future is that?"

"It's better than anything _you_ could provide."

I threw my hands up to the sky. "Well, thank God she has you to micromanage her life down to the last detail! Otherwise, she could end up happy and futureless."

Quinn stood up from the couch and got in my face like she'd been itching to do since Brittany had stepped between us. "Nobody's going to pick a truck driving, bartending dyke over a fucking doctor or anybody else for that matter. She can always do better than _you_."

I laughed at her intense hatred of me. "Chill the hell out and let Brittany live her own life. You're way too invested in this and it's getting all kinds of creepy. All of this scheming and plotting for what? To run me off? God, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you wanted her all to yourself."

I was joking.

I swear on my abuela, I was joking.

Quinn's jaw dropped and her eyes got wide. She blinked and her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. My eyebrows shot up into my hair as I recognized Quinn's sudden bout of catatonia for what it was. She was in shock, and it was because I'd touched a nerve that I really should've have stayed far, far away from.

_No. Please no. No no no no no. Say something, Quinn, you idiot!_

I desperately needed her to tell me I was wrong, to call me a horrible name and just fucking _react_ like she always did, but I knew what was happening in her head. It had happened to me a million times with Mercedes.

_Fucking say something!_

She was panicking. She was panicking because it was true.

_Fuck me._

And since Rachel Berry had all the social subtlety of an elephant wearing skis, she stage-whispered "oh my god" and took a step back.

Rachel's whisper-scream snapped Quinn out of her shame trance and she immediately began sputtering angrily while her face turned red.

"You- you're fucking _sick_, you know that?" she spat. "That's so _wron_g and _disgusting_, I can't believe you would even accuse me of _that_ of all things!"

I didn't even know what to say to that crazy bitch.

Rachel put her hand on Quinn's shoulder because she doesn't seem to know when to stop.

"Do not touch me!" Quinn hissed, jerking backward.

"I can't believe I didn't realize it before," Rachel said, giving Quinn a comforting smile. "I see what's really going on here."

Quinn shook her head like she was trying to break her own neck. "No! You don't see shit, Berry!"

I could see that the panic and anger in Quinn was rising and would probably turn into violence soon. She was stuck in some blizzard in Narnia and nothing we said would do any good until the storm stopped. "Let her go, Rachel. Just let her go."

Rachel frowned and released her. Quinn darted around me, grabbed Finn by the ear, and dragged him out of his seat.

"Ow! Hey!" He maneuvered out of her grip and rubbed the side of his head. By the glazed look on his face, he was either too drunk or too dumb to understand what had just taken place.

"We're leaving. Now." She shoved him toward the entryway and glared at me over her shoulder. "If you're not gone by the time I get back, I'm calling the cops."

"I'm the cops!" Finn said cheerfully.

"You're also drunk, genius." She grabbed her coat off the hook and stormed off. "You better be gone. I'm serious.

"It was nice meeting you!" Finn called as he quickly walked behind his owner.

The door slammed hard enough to shake the art hanging in the entryway and the room was silent. Rachel cleared her throat.

"That was… unexpected."

Unexpected was an understatement. Never in a million years would I have expected _that_ little tidbit of information to come to light.

"Do you think Brittany knows that Quinn… ugh, I can't even say it."

"If she does, she failed to mention it to me." She sighed and shook her head. "I feel so bad for Quinn."

"Feel bad for her? She can take a long walk off a short cliff as far as I'm concerned."

"Santana-"

"No. Quinn gets no sympathy from me. We've all been there, Rachel. The insecurity, the denial, the self-loathing, the hiding. It's no excuse for what she's doing. If Quinn wants to hate herself, that's one thing. But what she's doing to Brittany is just wrong. Hell, the way she treats _you_ is wrong. _You_ should be mad."

Rachel chewed her lip for a second, looking down at her shoes. After a moment, she spoke in the quietest voice I'd ever heard her use. "Santana, I don't have a lot of close friends, if you can believe it."

_No kidding._

I wisely decided that speaking had gotten me into enough trouble and I kept my mouth shut.

"Most of the people you saw with us at the club tonight were coworkers or acquaintances at best," she admitted. "It's not that I'm not friendly. I just have… a big personality, if you will. It's hard for most people to handle."

I nodded sympathetically.

"Brittany has been one of my best friends since college. We hit it off instantly and I knew she was going to be one of my best friends for life. But Brittany and Quinn are a package deal. Part of being Brittany's friend is accepting that and finding ways to work around it."

"That's such bullshit," I protested. "You shouldn't have to work around Quinn."

"That's reality," Rachel said. "It's my reality and it's your reality if you're serious about being with Brittany. Quinn's not going away."

"I really wish she would," I grumbled. "You're a trooper, Berry. I only have to deal with Quinn occasionally and I'm always two seconds from throwing her into an open manhole."

"She's actually capable of being a decent person. If she wasn't, I would have given up on Brittany a long time ago and I certainly wouldn't have invited them to live here. Certain things just set her off. My bisexuality is only a problem when I'm exercising the Sapphic side of my orientation or, of course, when Judy comes around. Brittany's… issues are only a problem when they're mentioned aloud, which is almost never. Or when you're present." She tapped her temple in thought. "Which makes a lot more sense in light of recent events."

I blew out a long breath. "You should get a medal for putting up with this shit. Or get your head checked."

"My therapist says that despite being raised in a loving home by my wonderful fathers, I have acceptance issues from being a friendless only child, and lingering abandonment issues after reuniting with and being rejected by my birth mother in high school."

_TMI._

"Oh. Okay then."

Brittany's door flung open and mercifully ended that conversation. Her face was a stone mask, but even so, I could tell she wasn't happy with any of us. Tommy trudged behind her with a hangdog expression his face, along with a hand-shaped red mark on his cheek. My superman cape was balled up in Brittany's hand. She held it out to me and I took it without a word of protest.

"I think it's time for everyone to go home now," she said.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

She turned away from me, scooped up an armful of empty beer bottles, and stiffly walked into the kitchen, letting the door swing closed behind her.

The last thing she muttered before leaving the room was, "God, I need a drink."

"I'll talk to her," I whispered to Rachel.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, you go to bed. I'll take care of it."

She walked down the hall to her room, leaving me alone with Tommy. I tied my cape around my neck and faced down my foe.

Tommy and I were polar opposites. He was male. I was female. He was tall. I was short. His light hair, skin, and eyes were far closer to Brittany's than mine. He was probably rich. I was broke if you didn't count the bag of questionably obtained money in my Ladies Night locker. He was college-educated. I dropped out. I was a magical creature of the night and as far as I could tell, he was your average, run-of-the-mill doctor-in-training. We couldn't have been more different if we tried.

Standing alone in the room with him made me realize how similar he was to Brittany and how different I was from both of them.

_One of these things is not like the others… one of the things just doesn't belong._

"Quinn told me all about you, you know." The smugly smirking schmuck was leaning against the wall, nonchalantly brushing lint off of his scrubs.

My mind returned to the unpleasant events that had just taken place. "Yeah well, I wouldn't put too much stock in what Quinn says. Turns out she's chock full of shit."

"So then you're not trying to fuck my girl?"

I frowned. "She's not your girl. She dumped you."

"I asked you a question." He stepped closer to me, trying to be intimidating.

"Before you ask me any more questions, I'm going to ask you to rethink your stance on breath mints."

He stepped forward again so that he was towering over me. "If you were a dude, I would've laid your ass out by now, but since you're almost a girl, I'm gonna be nice."

He leaned closer to my face and I winced. I wasn't kidding about the breath mints.

"Brittany and I have broken up before. We always get back together. This time isn't any different." He laughed in my face, probably melting my eyebrows. "You know, we could use this situation to our advantage. If you're interested in a threesome, I could make that happen. Brittany's a real firecracker in the sack and I know you want a piece of that."

His sudden interest in me as a sexual object threw me for a loop, but also inspired me to change tactics.

I flipped my hair over my shoulder, tugged at the bottom of my shirt, and stuck my chest out a little. Like a trained dog, Tommy's eyes dropped straight to my cleavage. "I could be open to that. I'm a very… adventurous type of gal."

He didn't look up. "You are?"

"Oh yeah," I assured him. "A threesome with a hot, handsome doctor like you is right up my alley. And by 'alley,' I mean 'my vagina.'"

_Your moves are a little rusty, Lopez._

He shifted his gaze from my chest and smirked. "I'm not surprised. Ladies can't resist me."

I nodded emphatically. "Oh, I'm sure."

_I went from being "almost a girl" to a "lady" in less than thirty seconds. That's gotta be a new record. My boobs are magical!_

He glanced over his shoulder towards the kitchen door and lowered his voice. "Maybe you and I could get a little one-on-one time before the main event?"

My skin was crawling.

"Sure thing, big boy." I batted my eyelashes dramatically. "But I don't adventure with just any old explorer. I need someone who can meet my needs."

"Believe me, I can meet all of your needs, baby."

_Ugh. Vomit._

"I don't know…" I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. "Do you have a nice place?"

"You bet. Got a condo in Rockwood. Way nicer than this one. King-sized bed, too."

Brittany lived in Rockmore. Rock_wood_ was a little further east and little swankier. I knew where the Rockwood condos were. They wouldn't be hard to find.

"And a nice car?"

"Corvette ZR1. Cherry red. Early graduation present from my dad."

I pretended to think for a second. "Hmm… not bad. I think that'll do."

"Well, alrighty then." He not-so-subtly flexed his pecs under his scrubs. "You're going to have to convince Brittany about the threesome, though. She never goes for it when I ask."

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll get it taken care of."

He grabbed his coat and strutted down the hall to the entryway. "I guess I'll be seeing you around then."

"I guess you will," I called. "Have a good night…"

He winked at me and slipped out the door, letting it shut behind him.

"…you disease-ridden testicle."

I dropped my smile, shook the cooties off my body, and picked up the remaining beer bottles. I pushed the kitchen door open with my shoulder. Brittany was standing at the sink, rinsing out the bottles and placing them in a small recycling bin.

I licked my lips nervously, not knowing how to start what was going to be an unpleasant conversation, but Brittany spoke before I did.

"I thought you left."

"How did you know it was me?"

"You're too quiet to be Rachel."

I walked over to the sink and set my bottles down next to hers. "Next time, I'm going to walk in here screaming just to confuse you."

She didn't laugh. I stepped behind her and put my hand on the small of her back. Her muscles were ridiculously tense. I slid my hands up to her shoulders and began to give her a gentle massage. She didn't say anything.

"Relax, B," I whispered.

Her lack of response to my touch made me feel nervous and uncomfortable. I stepped closer and kissed the back of her neck. As soon as my lips touched her skin, her shoulders dropped and she let out a long deep breath.

"Relax," I repeated, kissing her again and letting my hands roam up and down her back. Kissing her like this was safe. She couldn't touch me and cause any unexpected reactions.

"I can't relax," she whispered. "I'm just so mad."

I wanted to say something comforting, but I was hard pressed to find a silver lining to this cloud. In the end, I went with the tried and true classic, "talk to me."

Brittany let out a short, frustrated exhale. "Quinn just- I can't believe she would do that. I can't believe she would go that far and call _Tommy_ of all people."

She sounded so hurt and angry. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and rested my head between her shoulder blades, pouring every ounce of comfort I could into my hug. She didn't resist, which I found surprising because Rachel could've walked in or Quinn could've come back from her temper tantrum. She was probably too angry to be worried about it.

"I can believe it," I muttered against her back. "That girl has some serious issues."

"And Tommy. He needs to realize that I'm done. It's really over this time."

"You don't have to worry about him," I assured her. "I'm gonna take care of it."

Brittany's shoulders tensed and I lifted my head up. She reached up and turned the water off.

"And you," she said tightly, "I don't really like the way you acted in there."

"_Me_?" I looked behind me, thinking someone else had snuck into the room because there was no way she could be talking to me. "What did _I_ do?"

She turned around in my arms. I had to let go of her and take a step back because I sensed some anger.

"When you egg them on like that, it only makes things worse," she said.

"Ok, maybe I was a little 'unruly' in there," I conceded, "but you were going to let them run all over you!"

"I know how to handle them. Quinn and Tommy used to double-team me all the time. I just have to go along with it and then put off doing whatever it is they want me to do until Tommy gets bored and Quinn gets too frustrated to bring it up again."

"You shouldn't have to do that," I insisted.

She shrugged. "It works. It takes a while and it gives me a headache, but it works. You can't come at Quinn head-on. It just makes her act crazy."

I grabbed the dish towel, drying my not-wet hands out of frustration. "So it's okay that she acts crazy, but if I get upset and make a few rude remarks, I'm a bad person?"

Brittany rolled her eyes at my dramatics. "I didn't say you were a bad person. And the way Quinn acts is not okay, but that's just something I have to deal with."

"But you don't have to deal with _me_ is what you're saying."

"I don't have to deal with you acting like that when you don't like how I'm handling something, no."

I threw the dish towel onto the counter. "So what, that's it then?"

"Santana, stop trying to make it sound like I'm pushing you away when I'm not." She lifted her hands up and cupped my cheeks. "Okay? See? I'm not pushing this time."

"Then why does it sound like you are?" I involuntarily nuzzled her hand and she gently rubbed my cheeks with her thumbs, which was easily becoming my favorite calming gesture.

_Stop acting like a freaking kitten! You're angry!_

"Because you're used to me pushing. That's my fault," she admitted. "I understand that you want to stand up for me, but I don't need you to do that."

"Britt, I can't just let them-"

"Santana, please. I-" She closed her eyes for a second, steeling herself. "I just don't want to be in another relationship where I don't have any control. I have enough of those in my life. I want this to be different. I want _us_ to be different."

My frustration with Brittany fell about a million levels as I realized how difficult this was for her. This wasn't just one person bossing her around. This was her best friend, her ex, her parents, Shelby, and potentially _me_. People walked all over Brittany all the time. Standing up to them probably felt like a daunting task and I wasn't exactly helping by riling people up with sassy comments. But I didn't know how to stand down. The urge to "handle" people for her was hard to ignore. I wanted her to know it wasn't coming from a place of wanting to control her. I just wanted to _protect_ her.

"I can't watch them treat you like that," I whispered fervently. "I'm sorry, Britt, but if I see Quinn step out of line, I'm going to say something."

"Just leave it alone, San. I can take care of it. Have some faith in me."

Her eyes were pleading, but this just wasn't something that I could agree to. I didn't want to make her an empty promise and I didn't want to give up the only recourse I had, which was sticking up for both of us when the situation required it.

I couldn't do it.

I shrugged and looked away. "I'll do my best."

Her disappointment was obvious. She knew I wasn't actually promising to do anything differently. She sighed and dropped her hands from my face.

"Ok. I guess that's all I can really ask you to do," she mumbled. "It's really, really late. "I have to be up in a few hours, so I should probably get to bed."

"Are you going to be able to sleep?" I asked, concerned about her nightmares.

"I'll be okay," she said, not answering the question. "What about you?"

"I'm not all that sleepy." I pulled her into another hug. It was a little stiff on her part and I could tell that she was still upset with me. She didn't make any move to kiss me goodbye and I didn't think any attempt from me would be well received. "I'll text you when I get home."

"Ok." She awkwardly patted my back and I walked out of the kitchen with my cape fluttering behind me.

I let myself out, took the elevator downstairs, got in my car, and drove in the wrong direction.

* * *

><p>"The burned-out husk of a Corvette was found in the middle of the intersection of Main St and 37th Avenue this morning," the Channel 7 news reporter said. "Authorities are still not sure how it got there. Security camera footage from a nearby hotel just showed it falling out of the sky and landing here…"<p>

The couch dipped down beside me. Sam squinted at the screen and rubbed his eyes.

"Am I just tired or does that car look like a penis?" he asked.

"That car is totally a penis," I replied, taking a sip of coffee so that I wouldn't burst out laughing.

Mercedes was in the kitchen, packing her lunch. At the mention of the "p-word," she stopped and looked at the TV. "Um… is that car _supposed_ to look like that?"

"I doubt it. I'm sure the people at Chevy are capable of designing something more aerodynamic than a penis. Then again, cars aren't really my field of expertise. Neither are penises."

"So somebody stole that car, crushed it into a penis, set it on fire, and dropped it out of the sky?"

"Looks like it."

She shook her head. "Somebody's gonna have a bad day today."

_That's the idea._

She left the kitchen to finish getting ready for work. Sam glanced over his shoulder, making sure we were alone before he started speaking.

"If you don't tell Mercedes about last night, I will."

I whipped my head around to stare at him. "What do you know about last night?"

There was no way Sam could've possibly known about the body work I'd done on Tommy's car. Nobody knew about that.

"I know you didn't show up at the club because you wanted to work," he said.

I snorted. "Oh, _that_. I don't care about that. Tell her whatever you want. I can even model the cape and underwear for her if she needs some visuals to go with your story."

He leaned closer to me and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "How about I tell her that you brought a huge sack of money with you and left it in your locker?"

"You went through my _stuff_?" I asked incredulously.

"I knew you were up to something. I snuck into April's office and borrowed the padlock master key while you and Sugar were busy."

"You sneaky little weasel!" I pushed him until he sat up straight and removed himself from my personal space. "I can't believe you!"

"What are you doing with all that money, Santana?" he asked. "And where did it come from? You had to do something illegal to get that much cash."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "That money and its origins are none of your concern. I strongly recommend that you forget about it and stay the hell away from my personal belongings."

"Is it from the Power Rangers?" He glanced over his shoulder again, watching for Mercedes. "Did they send it to you?"

"I thought we agreed that you were going to forget about that, too. You hit your head. Remember? No, you don't remember because you hit your head. See? It's so simple."

The last thing I needed was for Big Mouth Billy Bass to ruin everything by flapping his gums.

"That's the answer to all your problems, right? Just pretend it didn't happen."

"No, but the answer to this problem in particular is for you to find some business of your own and go mind it."

"This _is_ my business, Santana," he said, sticking his finger in my face.

"You're the one making it your business!" I hissed. "Who told you to run after a freaking purse snatcher? Nobody! Who told you to go through my locker? Nobody!"

"It's my business when the people around my fiancée are making bad decisions. If you're going to be hanging out with shady people and getting shot at, then maybe you don't need to be a part of her life."

I was shocked, angry, and offended. "You can't keep her away from me. I'm her best friend."

"And I'm gonna be her husband."

We sat there, glaring at each other, waiting for the other to back down. We were so wrapped up in our silent power struggle that we didn't notice when Mercedes entered the living room.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, eyes darting between me and Sam suspiciously. Sam jumped off the couch and spun around to face her.

"Yupperooni!" Sam said way too loudly. "Everything's great, baby."

He had "liar, liar, pants on fire" written all over his face.

"Good," she said. She stared at us for a beat longer before picking up her purse. "Come on, Sam. I'm gonna be late for work if we don't leave now."

I waved as she walked out into the hallway. "Have a great day, kids! Don't do anything I would do!"

The door closed behind them, leaving me alone in the apartment.

I'd never been so upset with Sam in my life. The thought of Mercedes being kept away from me or even worse, voluntarily leaving me, made me feel ill. I shoved the thoughts out of my head, angry that Sam had turned the morning sour with his incessant need to meddle. The only thing keeping me from exploding was the fact that somewhere in Rockwood, Tommy was probably weeping. I used my phone to go to the Channel 7 website and watch the footage of his car burning downtown. It was probably the best revenge I had ever gotten and even in my current mood, it felt pretty good.

Nothing is more harmful to a homophobic man's ego than turning his brand new Corvette into a giant, flaming dick.

* * *

><p>Pissed Brittany is really not a fun person to be around.<p>

It was our first day of officially working together as a dynamic superfreak and journalist duo whose sole purpose was to put an end to corruption and evil in the city of Lima, Ohio. We were sitting in the basement of The Lima Times building, surrounded by boxes that Shelby had dumped on us. Most of the contents were old articles about police corruption. The oldest one was from 1980, the year that Ken Tanaka's grandfather had retired as police chief and bestowed the honor upon Ken's father. The articles came from every newspaper in Lima. Anytime someone wrote something critical about the cops, an article would appear in the newspaper's next issue announcing a new editor-in-chief.

Tanaka had the Lima press locked down.

Mixed in with the articles were pages upon pages of Shelby's own notes, some typed neatly on pristine paper, some scrawled hastily on the back of used napkins or scraps of trash. They were juicy tidbits from conversations with her various "sources" in the community. All of the notes were random and unrelated. Many of them were very interesting. None of them were verifiable.

"_See anything useful?"_ I asked cautiously. We'd been sitting in tense silence for two hours, and with good reason. Every time I opened my mouth, Brittany would make it very clear that she was there against her will and wanted me to go away.

The sound of my voice startled her and she jumped a little. She looked up from her laptop, fixed her glare on me, and held up a crumpled menu from Taco-Rama so that I could see it. Then she cleared her throat and began to read.

"'Ken Tanaka enjoys wearing ladies underwear and having one-night stands with homeless people.' Somebody probably thinks that's useful. I don't." She balled the menu back up and threw it into a box. "I gave up half an hour ago. I'm doing something else now."

I put my face between my hands and groaned. _"This is fantastic. I'm missing work because Shelby Cochran is a paper hoarder."_

Brittany looked skeptical. "You have a job?"

"_Contrary to popular belief, I'm a normal person with a normal job and a normal life."_

"Normal?" She glanced up at me before turning her attention back to her laptop. "You're using that word a little loosely."

The great thing about wearing a bandana and sunglasses is that you don't have to care about your expression so much. I tried not to take it personally that Brittany hated my guts and didn't enjoy being around me, but it was hard. To her, I was a suspicious, shadowy figure who may have orchestrated one of the most traumatic experiences of her life and killed someone in front of her. To me, I was still the same Santana. The Santana that wanted to be _hers_.

"What does someone like you do for a living?"

She didn't look up from her screen, but the question didn't seem to hold as much annoyance as her previous statements did. It sounded like she was genuinely curious.

"_I, uh_... _I'm a truck driver."_

It was vague and kind of misleading, but it was accurate enough.

Her brow furrowed, but she kept her eyes on the screen. "Really? That's what you do?"

"_Yeah, that's what I do. You got a problem with that?"_

She shrugged. "No. You just don't look like a truck driver to me, that's all."

"_What's that supposed to mean?"_

"You're kind of… short. I mean, can you even see over the steering wheel?"

I frowned. _"You're not that much taller than me."_

"I don't have to drive a huge truck," she pointed out.

"_It's not a huge truck, it's a medium-sized truck."_

She ignored me, typing away. "I've never seen a trucker that was tiny like you are. Do they make you use a booster seat?"

I turned my chair away from her. _"I liked it better when you were ignoring me. Let's go back to that."_

"Gladly."

"_Whatever."_

Resigning myself to a few more hours of old news, crazy gossip, and Brittany's misdirected anger, I grabbed another box. The sheets of paper on top belonged to an article that was printed from a Columbus newspaper's website. There was a picture of a blond man and a rather beefy woman embracing tearfully at the front of a courtroom while the courthouse cops attempted to separate them.

The headline read "Columbus Strangler Convicted, Receives 6 Life Sentences."

I read through the article quickly. It appeared that the blond man, Scott "Cooter" Menkins Jr., had been charged, tried, and convicted of murdering six Ohio women. Four of the women were from Columbus, but two were from Lima. Menkins was going to spend the rest of his life in the state penitentiary. The woman hugging him in the photo was his wife, Shannon Bieste-Menkins, a local attorney.

I stared at the sheet of paper blankly, trying hard to figure out why the hell Shelby had even printed it. It wasn't marked up or scribbled all over like some of the other articles I'd come across. The only thing she'd done was highlight the names of everyone mentioned in the article, including the victims. At the top of the article in red ink, she'd scrawled "Now what are the odds of that?"

I didn't know what to make of it. I didn't know who any of these people were. I wrote the names down onto the small note pad Shelby had given me so that I could look them up later.

"Hey! You!"

I turned around in my chair to see Brittany pointing at me.

"_Yes?"_

She gestured down at her laptop. "Come take a look at this."

I put the Cooter Menkins article back in the box of papers, walked over to Brittany's chair, and stood next to her, giving her enough personal space so that she wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Brittany tilted her screen toward me and pointed at a black-and-white image.

"See if you can find what's wrong in this picture."

The picture was taken inside of the First National Bank of Lima, a place I hadn't managed to set foot inside since my life went topsy-turvy. It was taken from the security camera furthest from the door, allowing the viewer to see the entire bank floor and out to the street. People were laying on the ground, some in the fetal position while others stared up in awe at what was happening in front of the counter. Towering over them like an Easter Island head was everybody's favorite cyborg, Mr. Sucktastic. In his mighty metal fists he held two bank robbers by their throats, ending their reign of terror and saving the good and honest bank patrons.

I rubbed my own neck, remembering the feel of the claw that Finntastic had used to choke me.

"_I don't see anything weird unless you count the fact that Finntastic bears a striking resemblance to Herman Munster."_

"Okay, but what about the rest of the picture? You don't see anything wrong?"

I squinted, straining to see some detail that I missed. After a few seconds, I gave up.

"_Nope, you got me,"_ I said. _"I don't see anything."_

Brittany gave a frustrated sigh and zoomed in on the large plate glass windows in the background.

"Look _outside_."

I followed her instructions. My eyes were immediately drawn to the sidewalk outside the bank, but I couldn't really come up with a reason why. It looked normal… almost.

"_Something's wrong with the sidewalk… but I can't put my finger on it."_

The corner of Brittany's mouth quirked up and I could tell she wanted to smile, but she suppressed her excitement.

"_I like guessing games as much as the next person, but can you please tell me what I'm looking at here?"_

"Ok, remember how Shelby said that Ken Tanaka would give her articles to put in the paper?" Brittany pointed at the flash drive sticking out of her laptop's USB port. "I asked her if I could check them out. It looks like Ken gave her pictures for the articles, too. This is the picture we were supposed to run when Mr. Finntastic stopped his first crime."

She pointed to the gas station across the street from the bank, tracing the shadows made by the gas pumps.

"See how the shadows are all different?"

Like most banks, the First National Bank of Lima had a clock out front. According to the clock, the picture was taken at 1:21PM. The bank clock had a short shadow because the sun was still high overhead, but everything across the street had shadows that were way too long and pointing in the wrong direction.

"It's like it's 1:21 on one side of the street, but it's still like, 9AM on the other side of the street."

"_What the hell is going on here?"_ I wondered aloud.

"This picture was edited," Brittany explained. "A lot. And badly."

She traced along the sidewalk with her fingertip. "Somebody tried to put two different pictures together, but they did a horrible job. That's why the sidewalk looks weird to you. They tried to blur it all together here. Noobs."

"_That's crazy. Are you sure there's no other explanation for this?"_

"A giant spotlight pointing at the other side of the the street?" she guessed. "Could be, but probably not. And that doesn't explain the blurry sidewalk. Someone edited this, I know it. I spend a lot of time doing it myself, so I can tell. But I have no idea why someone would edit like this. Most people wouldn't even pay attention to something that far in the background of a picture, so why bother?"

She zoomed out again so that the whole bank scene was in view. Even though the bank's large plate glass windows ran across the entire background of the photo, most people's attention would be drawn to the gun-wielding bandits getting their asses kicked by Finntastic.

"_So you've never seen this picture before?"_

She shook her head. "Nope. We went to Finn's press conference later that day and used some pictures of him showing off his suit for the article. As far as I know, no other news outlet in Lima has pictures from the bank's security cameras."

My stomach churned as I realized what I was looking at. This was a picture of _that_ day. It was the bank robbery that I'd read about while I was still at McKinley. The one that was supposedly happening while I was being kidnapped.

I quickly stepped forward and dropped to one knee, ignoring the way Brittany flinched at my sudden movement. I tilted the screen forward, searching the photo for what I knew would be missing.

Me.

I'd arrived at the bank at 1:15. At 1:21, I would have been loading packages into my truck, racing to get back to my phone so that I could call Brittany. My truck should've been parked right at the curb, right in front of the bank. It wasn't. Neither was Blaine's SUV. The entire street had been edited out.

And I hadn't noticed a thing at the time. The bank's windows were reflective. You couldn't really see inside unless you got super close and I hadn't been paying attention at all. I was too wrapped up in what I was doing to notice a bank robbery happening right in front of me.

This picture was a frame from the security camera footage that Lauren Zizes had asked to see, but couldn't. Because the cameras "weren't working." Because of some "electrical malfunction."

Clearly, that had been a lie.

"_There must've been something in the shot."_ My voice cracked and I tried to mask it by adding more distortion. _"Something that wasn't supposed to be there."_

Brittany raised her eyebrow. "Really? Like what?"

I didn't answer. I was too caught up in the fact that the police had given the only existing picture of the robbery to Lima's main newspaper and completely erased the fact that I was being kidnapped in the background. Then they didn't even look for me after I was reported missing.

I was startled out of my thoughts when the laptop slammed shut. Brittany leaned over so that we were almost face-to-hooded face.

"We're supposed to be working on this _together_, so if you know something, you need to tell me," she said angrily. "I'm not here for any secrets or games. I'm here to get this done so I can move on with my life. If you think you can take control of this situation because you know something that I don't, you need to think again, mister!"

I scooted back to avoid her wrath. Part of me was taken aback because Brittany wasn't usually this aggressive, but another part of me just wanted to see her direct all that anger towards Quinn or Tommy instead of a "stranger." I guess it's easier to stand up to people when there aren't any consequences.

"_It was just a theory,"_ I said once I was a safe distance away from her._ "I don't know anything, I swear."_

She looked at me skeptically for a moment. "I don't believe you."

"_Look, I know you don't trust me, but I'm in the dark here, too,"_ I lied. _"I've already told you and Shelby everything. If I figure anything out, you'll be the first one to know."_

She kept her gaze steady for a few long moments, finally sighing and looking away. "Just…just don't treat me like I'm stupid, okay? I'm not."

"_I would never treat you like that, Brittany."_

She let out a weak laugh. "Everyone treats me like that. Like I can't figure things out for myself and I need someone to take care of me."

I knew that Real Santana was being included in that group. I needed her to know that I never thought those kinds of things about her.

"_You seem upset today. Is there anything I-"_

She shut me down instantly. "I'm not talking to you about this."

"_Ok, ok. That's fine."_

We sat in silence for a moment before she exploded.

"It just makes me so _mad_!" She punctuated her sentence by letting her palm slap down on the closed laptop. "I'm not a baby! I'm an adult! People act like I'm going to play in the street or follow a man with candy into a van. I don't need people to tell me what to do!"

"_Did you tell… everyone how that makes you feel?"_ I asked.

"I don't know if I even want to bother," she said dejectedly. "Everyone I know is so hardheaded. It's like I'm surrounded by a bunch of brick walls."

I made a mental note not to be such a hardhead in the future.

"_You should give it a shot,"_ I suggested. _"If they don't listen, hey, at least you tried."_

"I guess," she mumbled.

I stuck my hand out to her. _"We're equals in this. Promise me that if I'm ever making you feel stupid, you'll let me know. And I promise not to be a brick wall. Deal?"_

She gave my gloved hand a once over before reluctantly shaking it. "Deal."

"_Good."_

"This doesn't change anything between us though," she added. "I still don't trust you."

"_Understandable."_

"Even your hands are tiny."

I jerked my hand out of her grip. _"That's enough of that."_

The last thing I needed was for Brittany to figure out that The Littlest Truck Driver was really a woman.

"What's your name?" she asked suddenly.

I jumped up off the ground like it was suddenly made of molten lava. _"My- my _what_?"_

She put the laptop on top of a box and leaned back in her chair. "Your name."

"_I don't have a name,"_ I said quickly.

"I thought you were a 'normal' person with a 'normal' job and a 'normal' life," she said, complete with air quotes. "You have to have a name."

"_I don't have to have anything."_

"What do your parents call you?"

"_They don't. And hypothetically speaking, even if I did have a name, you wouldn't need to know it."_

"You don't have to freak out," she huffed. "I just have no idea what I'm supposed to call you. We're supposed to be equals, but I can't know your name? You know mine and you know where I work. How is that fair?"

"_If you need to call me something, just make up a name. I'm not giving you my real one."_

"If you don't give me your name, I'm gonna call you Rumplestiltskin."

"_What? No!"_

"Oh yes," she laughed evilly. "This is gonna be so much fun, Rumplestiltskin."

I glared at her, not that she could tell. _"Are you serious right now?"_

"I'm so serious," she replied with the straightest face I've ever seen.

Before I could protest further, her phone rang and "Say a Little Prayer for You," a song which will forever haunt my nightmares, filled the air. Brittany sighed, answered it, and proceeded to have the shortest phone conversation ever.

"Yeah? I know. Okay. That all? Fine. Bye."

I'd never heard Brittany be so short with Quinn in the entire time I'd known her. It gave me life. I broke out into the biggest smile behind my bandana. For a second, I almost forgot she was pissed off at me, too.

"I'm supposed to meet Quinn at the mall," she groaned. "Finn's getting his key to the city and we have to be there to cover it."

"_Lucky you. You get to spend all afternoon with Lima's hearthob."_

It suddenly occurred to me that Tommy was supposed to meet them there for lunch. I had no idea if having his car turned into a fiery dong was enough to keep him from going.

She stood up and gathered her things. "Right when we actually seemed to be getting somewhere. You can take off if you want."

I nodded and waved as she crossed the room towards the staircase. _"Have a nice day, Brittany."_

She waited until she reached the top of the stairs to yell "You too, Rumplestiltskin!" and slam the door before I could respond.

* * *

><p>I only went to the mall because I wanted to see if Tommy would show his face.<p>

I guess some people would interpret that as not trusting Brittany, but I didn't think of it that way. I knew she wasn't interested in getting back into that joke of a relationship, but I couldn't deny that part of me was scared. Brittany reacted out of fear sometimes, and when she did, it never turned out well for me.

After a quick trip home, I showed up at the mall sans costume, looking for Tommy. That's the great thing about being two different people. When you need to be somewhere that you're not supposed to be, you can just change your clothes and voila! You're a brand new person.

The Crowning of King Finntastic was taking place at the very heart of the mall, near the food court. There was a large circular area where they'd set up a stage and chairs. Usually, the space was reserved for those kiosks that sold remote controlled helicopters, novelty belts, and other random stuff that _someone_ must be buying, but isn't owned by anyone you've ever actually met. A few times a year, they'd clear the space and put Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny there.

This was my least favorite section of the mall as a child. We rarely came to the mall back then. When we did, we always entered through the food court entrance, but we never ate there. My abuela would never let me get a picture with Santa or the Easter Bunny because there had to be something wrong with any guy who dressed up in costumes and asked children to sit on his lap all day. And then, of course, there was CAPTAIN HAPPY.

CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND was the largest store in the mall. It was like Chuckie Cheese meets FAO Schwarz on crack. Or at least that was how it was described to me by various sources. I refused to enter that "store," so I had no idea.

The original Funland was just a ball pit, a ski ball machine, and a kitchen that was violating all kinds of health code regulations. After it was purchased by CAPTAIN HAPPY, it was under construction for almost a year. CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND had its grand reopening on the weekend of my seventh birthday and because I actually had a real live friend that year, my abuela decided we'd have a little party. There was something very important that she should've mentioned before she put her plan in motion.

CAPTAIN HAPPY is a clown.

I fucking _hate_ clowns.

Every single employee at CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND dresses like a clown. Or so I hear. I've never been inside because at the grand unveiling of the new store, they pulled down the large, white sheet covering the entrance and I flipped a shit.

The entrance to CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND is a giant clown's head. To get inside the store, you have to walk into its giant mouth. The tongue is a slide that goes down three stories into God-Knows-Where, probably the depths of Hell. It even has teeth.

I repeat: to get inside the store, you have to walk into a motherfucking _clown's mouth_.

No, no, one thousand times no.

I embarrassed my abuela, Mercedes, Ohio, Puerto Rico, the planet Earth, the Milky Way, and my unborn children with the way I acted when that sheet dropped. I bawled like someone had run over a puppy right in front of me. My abuela had to drag me to the car and promise me that we would never ever go back to that place ever again just to get me to stop crying. To this day, every time the CAPTAIN HAPPY commercial comes on, Mercedes screams "he's a _clown_?!" (which is allegedly what I screamed that day) and starts cracking up. I don't know why I continue to associate myself with her. She's a terrible person.

Even as an adult, I could barely stand to be near the place. The gaping maw of the CAPTAIN HAPPY clown head was taunting me from the other side of the stage.

The seats were already full of press people. Cameras were being angled and reporters were tapping their pens on their notepads, waiting for the show to get on the road. A lot of regular folks had come to watch as well. It sucked for the people who just wanted to shop because the Finn Fans were clogging the walkways.

Sitting in the row of chairs on the stage were Mayor Schuester, Ken Tanaka, and some other fancy-pants-big-wigs that I didn't recognize. Mr. Finntastic towered over them in his super suit, probably because he weighed too much to sit in a plastic folding chair. His helmet was tucked under his arm and his hair was neatly combed and gelled, but he didn't look anywhere near as happy as he did in the pictures. He looked like he wanted to take that damn suit off and sit down like a normal person.

Brittany and the Devil were sitting in the front row. Quinn seemed to be trying really hard to get Brittany's attention, but Brittany wouldn't even look at her. She just kept adjusting her camera and taking pictures, ignoring Quinn like she didn't even know her. It was nice to see that at least one of them understood how the silent treatment was supposed to work, but by the way Quinn was reacting to it, I could tell that she wasn't used to getting it from Brittany.

I was tempted to use my super hearing again so I could bask in the sweet, sweet sound of Quinn Fabray begging for forgiveness, but the voices of the chattering crowd would be almost as loud as Rachel Berry and I didn't want a repeat of that headache.

Quinn must have said the wrong thing because Brittany whirled on her, looking furious. I could only see their profiles, but I could tell that Brittany's response was heated. Her brow was furrowed and her lips were drawn back from her teeth in a snarl. Quinn's eyes widened and she faced forward, thoroughly chastised. I don't know what Brittany said, but even the people behind them shot each other uncomfortable looks. There was clearly trouble in paradise.

_Good, it's about time. You tell her, Brittany._

I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when an arm reached across Quinn and tapped Brittany on the shoulder. It was only then that I recognized the dirty blonde head sitting on Quinn's other side. Brittany turned to him and smiled brightly, leaning in front of Quinn to give him a hug.

My heart dropped into my stomach. It seemed that their lunch date hadn't been cancelled after all.

_Way to go, Lopez. You pushed her into his arms by acting like a giant baby. You really thought you had a chance? Please. It's always going to be you and your stuffed giraffe, living forever alone in your-_

The guy that hugged Brittany turned around to chat with the people behind them. It wasn't Tommy. It was just another reporter. This guy was old enough to be Brittany's dad.

I instantly regretted my initial reaction. Clearly, I didn't trust her. I kept jumping to conclusions, waiting for her to hurt me. And yeah, maybe she _had_ hurt my feelings in the past, but she said she was going to work on it and all of my second guessing wasn't exactly the encouragement she needed. The fact that I had even showed up to the mall to snoop on her made me feel like a jerk.

_Way to go, Lopez. Way to be a presumptuous ass that can't give anyone the benefit of the doubt._

_What? _You_ were the one who just went on a rant about how much of a loser I was and how Brittany would always choose Tommy over me!_

_You know better than to listen to me. I'm crazy._

_This is true._

Right before the event started, one of the cops in the audience approached the front of the stage and signaled to Ken Tanaka. Tanaka leaned forward in his chair, annoyed, but whatever the cop said to him made his face fall. He signaled to the rest of the cops in the audience and as a unit, they all got up and started pushing roughly through the crowd towards the exit. Finntastic just stood there looking confused.

"Holy shit," the guy next to me whispered as the cops passed through our area. He showed his cell phone to the girl he was with. "John just texted me. There's like, some kind of riot going on downtown. All the homeless people just went nuts! They're trying to tear down the courthouse!"

I wasn't quite sure what a homeless riot would look like and I was tempted to go check it out instead of watching Saint Finntastic's ceremony.

A fancy-pants-big-wig lady stepped up to the podium and cleared her throat into the microphone to get the crowd's attention. The chattering died down as she began introducing Mayor Schuester. When she was finished, the crowd applauded and the Billionaire Mayor straightened his vest before approaching the podium. I didn't hear a word he said. I was too focused on Brittany. I'd never see her while she worked before and I was content just to watch her do her thing. She was so fluid in her movements, every motion practiced and perfected. She shot pictures like a well-oiled machine. Her face scrunched up in concentration as she set up the shot and she'd stick out the tip of her tongue. Then she'd check out her photo on the display screen and give a satisfied nod or brief pout. She was so serious and focused, I couldn't look away. Quinn sat next to her, using her phone to record Mayor Schuester's speech. She jotted notes on her notepad and every so often sent a surreptitious glance at Brittany. Brittany was so absorbed in her work that she didn't even need to pretend not to notice. She turned away from Schuester, angling herself in her seat to take some pictures of Finn.

It's actually a good thing that I'm a creepy stalker. If I had been paying to Will Schuester and not watching Brittany so closely, I would've missed the moment when Brittany froze. Her hands stuttered to a stop right in the middle of adjusting her lens for her next shot. She slowly lowered her camera to her lap and just stared off to the Finntastic's left.

Quinn noticed that Brittany wasn't taking pictures and must have asked her if something was wrong. Brittany didn't answer and Quinn turned to look in the direction that Brittany was facing. It took me a minute to find what they were staring at, but when I saw it, I was surprised that I missed it in the first place.

It was a hat.

It wasn't just any old hat. It was a very unusual hat, one that I'd described to Brittany in passing as a joke. She must have held onto that description and remembered it because here in the Lima mall, near the front of crowd that was gathered behind the stage, was a purple bowler hat with peacock feathers in it. And although there were people blocking our view of the hat's owner, one could only assume that the hat was resting comfortably on the head of a gay man in a purple suit.

_Fuck._

I took a deep breath and forced myself to let it out slowly.

_Don't freak out. Just because he's here doesn't mean he's going to do something._

Deep down inside, I knew that wasn't true. Kurt didn't just show up places because he was tired of eating bonbons and getting mani/pedis all day at his compound. He went places to _do_ things. I suddenly felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable. I didn't have my sweatsuit or my shades with me. If Kurt tried to confront me in public, I was screwed. I couldn't exactly go Super-Saiyan in the middle of the mall.

They both turned their bodies back towards Mayor Schuester. Quinn looked slightly confused and Brittany started fiddling with something in her lap.

_Stop stalking. You need a plan of action because you _know_ some shit is about to go down._

Unfortunately, I had no freaking clue what Kurt would be doing at the mall. I could only hope that he was here to replace his incredibly tacky wardrobe. I scanned the crowd again, quickly registering faces and looking for henchmen in plaid suits. My eyes locked with someone else's and I nearly shat myself. Sure enough, Blaine was standing not far from me in the crowd, staring directly at me and grinning.

Moving in the opposite direction, I started to work my way through the mass of people, but it took a lot of effort to get people to move out of the way. I pushed further to the right, exchanging excuse me's and pardon me's with everyone and their grandmother.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out as I continued my progress through the ocean of people.

_Mercedes: Where are you? You need to call me right now!_

From my new position, I could now clearly see that the thing Brittany was fiddling with in her lap was her phone. She'd told Mercedes and Mercedes had probably called Lauren Zizes, only to find that I was "out sick" today.

_This just keeps getting better and better._

"Going somewhere?"

My head snapped up as someone grabbed my arm.

It was Wes. He had a way of frowning with his whole body to express his displeasure with life.

"This is just perfect," I muttered.

"When Kurt's done here, you and I are going to buy a new Kindle to replace the one you blew up," he said matter-of-factly. "I hope you brought your credit card."

I yanked my arm out of his grip and took a step back. My suspicions were confirmed. Some cray-cray shit was about to happen.

People started applauding. The mayor had finished his speech and one of the fancy-pants-big-wigs brought him the "key to the city." True to its name, it was in fact a large key. It was gold, shiny, and about the size of Guitar Hero controller. Mr. Finntastic stepped forward and shook the mayor's hand firmly. The crowd cheered for their hero.

As soon as Finntastic reached out and put his hand on the key, the entire stage flew off the ground. People screamed and backed away, falling over each other to get clear of the floating stage. The fancy-pants-big wigs rolled out of their chairs and held onto the stage for dear life. Finntastic stuck his arms out, easily balanced and anchored by his suit. As the crowd shifted, I could see that the stage wasn't actually floating. Kurt was there, holding it above his head in one glowing, purple hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, grinning broadly, "can I have your attention, please?"

He launched the stage into the audience and all hell broke loose as everyone in the crowd proceeded to lose their shit. Finntastic jumped safely off of the stage and landed on the ground, but Mayor Schuester and friends went flying all over the place. People were running and pushing each other, fighting to get out of the way of the flying stage. The muscles in my legs tensed. I was ready to spring into action so that I could sweep people out of the way or catch the stage before it landed, but I paused at the last second. There was no way I could use my powers out of costume with a mall full of witnesses and Mr. Finntastic watching. This was different than saving Alexander. People knew there was a super powered menace on the loose. I would be in jail before you could say "Bryan Ryan."

I stood motionless in the crowd as the stage came down, falling on an unlucky handful of people who weren't fast enough to get out of the way. I sighed internally at the nagging feeling tugging at my heart strings, telling me that I should've helped those people and that I had an obligation to stop Kurt.

_If there's a surgery to have an overactive conscience removed, I'm getting it._

While everyone was distracted, I seized my opportunity. I karate chopped Wes in the throat and shoved him away from me. He stumbled backwards and tripped over some lady that had fallen to the floor behind him. I darted back through the panicking crowd, dodging people as they ran past. A lot of them had dropped their purchases on the ground in their haste to escape. I picked up bags at random, looking for one that might help me disguise myself.

_Baby Gap? I'm not _that_ tiny._

_Tuxedo Hut? What the hell, this isn't a Bond movie._

_Victoria's- NO._

The next bag was from a store called "Lima, Snow-hio." Inside, there was a parka. On the positive side, it was large. The hood would hide my face and the parka was large enough to hide both my boobs and my shapely bottom.

Downside? It was bright orange and zebra print. At the same time. Even the fur fringe on the hood was neon tangerine.

_Of freaking course. I've got a young Michael Kors terrorizing the mall and I'm about to commit the worst fashion faux pas of my life._

I dropped to my knees, pulling the coat out and throwing it over myself in one smooth motion. I turned back toward the stage, slamming into people as I charged up and ran in the opposite direction of the mass exodus.

In the front row of chairs, Brittany and Quinn sat stock still, guarded by the ever-sockless Blaine and his very large gun. Brittany's eyes never left the gun, but Quinn was staring at Finntastic, willing him to freaking _do_ something. The whole "random assholes popping up and sticking guns in your face" thing gets old quick.

"Now, which one of you is Quinn Fabray?" Blaine asked aloud, tapping his lips.

"I am," Brittany and Quinn said simultaneously. They glared at each other and spoke again. "No, _I_ am."

"I don't have time for this. Kurt! We've got some uncooperative-"

Kurt shushed Blaine as he calmly walked up to Finntastic.

"Stop in the name of the law!" Finntastic bellowed, pointing at Kurt's face.

Metal pieces clicked and whirred into place until the end of Finntastic's arm looked like the barrel of a cannon. Kurt came to a stop right in front of him. He looked him up and down, examining Finntastic's magic suit, and let out a little giggle that wasn't really fitting for the serious situation and the mass chaos going on around them.

"And to think, I once wanted one of these suits," he said, still laughing. "It looks better on you, though. I don't think I could pull off this look as effortlessly as you have."

I ran forward, ready to tackle Kurt and put an end to this episode of "Say Yes to the Dress" when a plainclothes cop leapt out in front of me and fired several rounds into Kurt. Every bullet hit Kurt directly and with a flash of purple, the bullets disappeared into his skin without leaving even a small wound behind. Kurt turned to the cop, smiling, and blew him a kiss. One of the bullets flew out of Kurt's mouth and went right into the cop's head, sending a spray of blood and brain matter all over the place.

Quinn screamed. Brittany closed her eyes. Headshots get old quick, too.

Kurt turned back to Finntastic, who was now very aware that anything he shot at Kurt could and would be used against him in the Court of Pain.

"If you stand still, this can be quick and painless for both of us," Kurt cooed. He stretched out his hand and put it on Finntastic's chest, gently stroking the metal plate above his heart. A faint purple light began to emanate from Kurt's hand, growing more intense by the second. The purple light spread into the metal until you couldn't tell where Kurt ended and where the suit began.

"What are you doing?" Finntastic screeched. "I can't move!"

His arms twitched spastically, but he couldn't seem to actually do anything useful with them.

"Finn, no!" Quinn screeched. "Run! Go, get out of-"

Blaine aimed his gun at Brittany's head. "If you don't shut your mouth, I'll blow your friend's brains-"

Twin beams shot out of my eyes before the thought even fully formed in my mind. They caught Blaine in the chest, prematurely punctuating his sentence and knocking him to the ground. He bounced up almost instantly, unharmed. There was a large burn-hole in the front of his grey plaid suit and I could see his chest, which was covered in some kind of clear, thick substance. He let his eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments and a few seconds later, more of the substance started dripping down his face. It seemed to be leaking from his head.

"_Is that… is that _hair gel_?"_

Brittany whipped her head around, finally catching sight of me. She mouthed the word "Rumplestiltskin?" and I nodded in confirmation. Somehow, even in my fancy new winter coat, everyone knew it was me.

Blaine slicked his disgusting hair back. "Just one of my many new skills, thanks to that green goop your friends made. Not a bad power, right?"

Ben and I had discussed the possibility of Kurt dipping himself in the Goo, but I never imagined that Blaine would get SNIX'd, too

"_Too bad the Goo's restorative powers didn't cure your sock allergy."_

Kurt, who still had his hand lodged somewhere inside of Finntastic, saw my parka and made a gagging noise.

"Oh honey," he croaked. "No. That is the most- ugh, no. I didn't think you could possibly do worse than that Crocodile Hunter getup. Yet here you are, exceeding expectations."

"_You've got feathers in your hat, Yankee Doodle. You're in no position to judge." _I slowly walked forward, holding my glowing hands out in front of me like loaded weapons. _"Don't try anything funny or I'll turn that suit into ashes."_

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Go away. I'm busy and you're bothering me."

"_What are you even doing here, Kurt? Shouldn't you be knitting a fall collection somewhere?"_

"I'll have you know that fashion is no laughing matter. You'd do well to learn that," he snapped. "And not that it's any of your business, but I'm here to collect a few things that rightfully belong to me. One blond reporter and one very elusive piece of hardware."

"_I've got a better idea. You can buy yourself a new feather for your hat and stop at the food court for a refreshing beverage on your way back to Candyland. How's that sound?"_

"Tempting, but I'll pass. Blaine! Take the reporter. It's almost time to go."

"Which one?" Blaine asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Oh I don't care, take both," Kurt said dismissively.

The sound of metal plates screeching against each other echoed through the space. Finntastic screamed as Kurt lifted him into the air above his head. Blaine moved forward. He waved his gun at Brittany and Quinn, urging them out of their chairs. I pointed my palm at him, warning him not to move. He put his gun in Brittany's face, warning _me_ not to move.

"_Look, Kurt,"_ I said, _"I don't care what you do to him. I really don't. But you need to let those two go right now before things get ugly."_

"I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, things have already gotten ugly. I'm almost done here anyway. Just need to find a way to unlock this stupid thing."

"_I said let them go!"_ I commanded._ "It's clear that you took a Goo bath and got yourself a little super power, but just because you can spit bullets now doesn't mean I won't kick your ass."_

There was a loud whirring sound as the thick metal collar of the super suit unscrewed itself and clicked open. Kurt reached up, grabbed the collar, and shoved it in his coat pocket.

"All done, here you go."

In a split second, Kurt ripped his arm out of the suit, causing shards of shrapnel to fly everywhere, and flung Finntastic at me. Finntastic's arms were still locked at his sides as the purple light faded from his suit. It seemed that Kurt's magic was still locking his limbs into place and he wouldn't be unfrozen by the time he hit the ground. I braced myself, digging my heels into the ground as Two Tons of Funn smacked me right in the stomach. Even though he hit my body, I didn't make any effort to catch him. He bounced off of me and hit the floor with a thud, bashing his head on the landing and knocking himself out cold.

"Finn!"

Quinn ran forward, ignoring the fact that Blaine had a gun trained on her and Brittany. She didn't see Wes running to intercept her, but I did.

"_Stay back!"_ I shouted, but Wes was much closer to her than I was. He pursed his lips together and blew. A thick cloud of blue dust flew into the air and she ran right into the middle of it. Her head snapped back like she'd hit a glass wall. Her entire body gave a violent twitch and she collapsed into a nearby chair, completely limp and unresponsive.

I hopped over Finntastic's unconscious body and slung an energy beam in Wes's direction. He ducked and Blaine shot a stream of hair gel at the beam, deflecting it. Using the distraction to her advantage, Brittany grabbed her camera by the strap and whacked Blaine in the face with it. As he screamed and clutched his face, she ducked around him and took off running.

_I bet he wishes that he put some of that protective hair gel on the bridge of his nose._

Brittany sprinted past me towards the food court. She didn't spare Quinn a second glance as she avoided the large crowds by the doors and darted down some large hallway. Blaine threw his next gel ball with his eyes closed, flinging it wildly in my direction, but I was so distracted with Brittany's escape that I managed to get hit square in the eyes.

I yelped loudly and tried to wipe the stuff out of my eyes, only succeeding in getting my hands stuck to my face. A second gel ball struck my stomach and I hunched over. I heard footsteps walking toward me, so I kicked my leg out wildly, hoping to strike the attacker. Without the ability to see or use my beams, I was pretty useless.

"Don't worry," Wes's voice told me. Two hands grabbed my cheeks and I felt stale, hot breath on my face. The second his breath hit my lips, my muscles started to convulse. "This won't hurt one bit."

Wes's open mouth covered mine as he blew steaming hot sand into my lungs.

_Move! Run! Go! Now!_

I twitched spastically, but nothing meaningful happened.

_Get away - him! You – to fight! Just – your – and -!_

My thoughts grew fainter and fainter and the convulsing in my muscles slowed. My heart rate slowed. My breathing slowed. A low buzz echoed around my brain, drowning out all thought. Except one.

_STOP RESISTING._

It was loud and clear and probably the best idea I'd ever had. I felt hands wiping at my eyes, clearing most of the hair gel away.

_FUCK THE REPORTERS. THEY'RE NOT YOUR CONCERN._

Somehow my thoughts felt different. They were loud and hollow sounding. The voice in my head sounded like me, but not really. It was like someone was doing a really good impression of me in a big, empty theater.

_WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO SAVE THEM? THAT ONE? SHE'S A BITCH. YOU HATE HER. AND THE OTHER RAN OFF. SHE DOESN'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU. FUCK 'EM. LET KURT HAVE 'EM._

I nodded at nothing, agreeing with the instructions. As I bent my knees and prepared to sit on the floor, I heard an odd noise coming from behind me and getting louder. A split second later, I was slammed from behind by something large and fast. My mind snapped out of its haze. Wes yelled and jumped backwards as the large thing carried me forward. I looked down, and even through my blurry vision, I could make out the words "Lima Mall Security." I was lying across the hood of a golf cart.

_IF YOU'RE GOING TO INSIST ON DISOBEYING, YOU'RE GOING TO DO IT WITHOUT YOUR POWERS._

"Hold on!" Brittany yelled from somewhere behind me. She swerved hard around the chairs and I slid across the small hood. I followed her instructions and grabbed onto the bar that supported the golf cart's roof. The confused expression on Kurt's face almost made the entire ordeal worth it.

"Grab Quinn!"

I only had a split second to react to her command as we passed Quinn's unconscious body. Luckily, my hands were sticky enough that I didn't have to do much. I grabbed her by the arm and she stuck to me, allowing me to yank her up into the air like a kite and pull her up onto the hood with me. Brittany swerved around the injured Blaine and the golf cart careened hazardously on two wheels. It slammed back down and took off, barreling towards CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND.

Straight towards the clown's mouth.

"_NO!"_ I screamed. _"NOT THE CLOWNS!"_

"Hold on tight!" Brittany yelled. "We're going in!"

The entrance was tall and wide, large enough for a truck to easily slide in. Pearly white teeth shone brightly under the florescent lights and a large pink tongue lolled out of the clown's mouth stupidly. It curved as it went over the clown's bottom teeth before plummeting into the pit of HAPPY Hell that lay beneath it.

If you're a regular person on foot, it's just a small incline before you go down the long slide. If you're in a golf cart, it's more like a giant ramp.

We hit the tongue at full speed and went flying off the top of the slide. The golf cart sailed through the air, soaring over the store. My brain couldn't register anything besides creepy circus music and overwhelmingly bright colors as we sped through the sky until Brittany leaned over and shouted in my ear.

"We're gonna crash!"

Sure enough, we were heading right for a large model plane that was hanging from the ceiling.

"_Grab on to my neck!"_ I shouted. She complied as I secured Quinn's limp body in my arms, cradling the back of her head like a baby. When everyone was safely aboard the Santana Train, I jumped off the hood of the golf cart. Seconds later, it smashed into the plane, but I was more concerned with the fact that we were still falling out of the sky.

I focused waves of energy to my feet, ready to blast off and get us the hell out of the mall. The sole of one foot tingled slightly before returning to normal. I tried it again. This time, I couldn't even feel the energy getting to my ankles. I couldn't increase the charge in my body. I couldn't fly.

We were falling from several stories up and I couldn't fly.

"_Shit! Shit! Shit!"_ I kicked my legs wildly, hoping to shake some energy into my feet as we got closer and closer to the ground. Brittany realized that something wasn't working properly and tightened her hold on my neck, effectively cutting off both my oxygen and my circulation. I focused all the strength I could muster into my legs, preparing to land on the shiny orange linoleum.

We hit the floor and pain shot up my leg as something audibly snapped in two. To my infinite horror, the ground buckled beneath us before shooting us back into the air. It wasn't linoleum, it was a fucking trampoline. We flew back into the air and came down in a deep pit of ridiculously large stuffed animals. The impact of our landing caused the stuffed animals on display above us to fall, quickly burying us in an avalanche of cuteness. I laid there for a few seconds, dazed and completely immobile, as Brittany untangled herself from me and rolled over.

The intercom system crackled and Kurt's voice came through loud and clear.

"I know you're in here," he giggled. "Don't make me come find you."

The transmission ended with an audible click.

"I knew I should have stayed home today." Brittany shifted so that she was facing me, but quickly looked away from the brightness of my eyes. Quinn was breathing, but not very deeply. Her pulse was weak and she was very pale. I moved her so that her body was lying between Brittany and I.

"_For a second there, I thought you ran off."_

Brittany frowned. "I wouldn't just leave Quinn there like that. I wouldn't even just leave _you_ there like that. It's not right."

"_Sorry,"_ I said. _"I didn't mean to-"_

Suddenly, Quinn's body jerked to life. Her head flew back and her limbs shook uncontrollably, disturbing the mountain of stuffed animals above us. She was having a seizure.

"Quinn!" Brittany grabbed Quinn's forearms and tried to keep her still, but her unconscious body continued to move of its own accord. When Quinn finally stilled, a thin trail of blood trickled out of her nose and down to her chin. Something was really, really wrong with her.

"She needs to go to the hospital," Brittany said quietly. She grabbed the floppy bunny ear of a nearby stuffed animal and wiped the blood from Quinn's face.

"_I don't think we're going to be able to get out of here any time soon,"_ I pointed out.

"There's gotta be some way to get out without Kurt seeing us," she mumbled, thinking out loud.

I lifted my head up. _"Wait, how do you know Kurt?"_

"I don't, not really. I photographed him for the paper a few times at press conferences." She stopped wiping Quinn's face and looked over at me. "How do _you_ know him?"

"_I know a lot of people,"_ I said evasively.

Her eyes narrowed. "What does _that_ mean? And what are you even doing here?"

"_I'm here because you hit me with a golf cart."_

"No, I mean what are you doing at the mall? I told you I was coming here and now you're here and all of this is happening."

"_Coincidence?"_ I offered.

She frowned. "I doubt it."

"_Brittany, I have absolutely nothing to do with this."_

She sat up and started pushing stuffed animals off of us, chucking them out into space. "You never have anything to do with anything. You're just always there when something bad happens. And I find it funny that you and Quinn breathed in the same blue dust and now she's sick, but you're perfectly fine. Weird funny, not 'ha-ha' funny."

"_I'm not fine,"_ I insisted. _"It's just not having the same effect on me."_

She rolled her eyes as she slid her arms under Quinn's back and legs. "Of course it isn't. Excuse me."

"_What are you doing?"_ I asked.

She picked Quinn up and stood, shoving her way through enormous bunnies, teddies, and puppies as she waded through the stuffed animal pit. I tried to get up, but I couldn't stand on my bad leg at all. My ankle was shattered. I sent energy down my leg so that I could heal it. This time, it wouldn't flow past my knees.

I hopped onto my other leg unsteadily and chased after Brittany. _"Hey! Where are you going?"_

"I need to get out of here," she huffed. "Something's wrong with Quinn and she needs a doctor."

"_You can't go out there by yourself!"_ She put Quinn down on top of the stuffed animals, hoisted herself out of the pit, then reached down and pulled Quinn out. _"You don't even know where you're going!"_

"I know exactly where I'm going," she said.

"_Brittany, please. I'm begging you. Don't go. It's not safe out there."_

"It's not safe here, either."

"_There's no way you can get out of here without being seen and if they see you-"_ I looked around cautiously, expecting Kurt to pop out from behind something. My stomach turned at the thought of him hurting Brittany. She shifted Quinn in her arms and I grabbed her ankle to get her attention. _"Jesus, will you just listen to me?"_

_BREAK HER ANKLE. SNAP IT LIKE A FUCKING TWIG._

I recoiled in horror at my own thoughts, immediately releasing her and backing away. Bile rose in my throat and I stared at my hand like it belonged to a stranger.

Brittany glared down at me, oblivious to the fact that I was going nuts. "Why should I listen to you? You're like, the shadiest person in the world. Everything you say sounds-"

Quinn started to seize again in Brittany's arms.

"No, no, no!" Brittany whimpered, trying to get a grip on Quinn's thrashing body. She slowly sank to the ground, falling to her knees and hugging Quinn's body to her chest. Wrapping her arms around Quinn's torso, she repeated Quinn's name over and over until her friend stopped seizing. I gripped the edge of the pit and pulled myself out, swinging my legs up and over. The light from my eyes illuminated the tears in Brittany's. She didn't say anything to me.

After a few minutes, I spoke.

"_Brittany, it's not going to do her any good if you run off and get yourself hurt."_

"So I'm just supposed to watch her _die_?" Her voice broke and she gripped Quinn harder. "She's sick! And those guys! They're trying to take us somewhere and my dad's not going to know where we are! Nobody's going to be able to find us and we're never going to come home-"

"_Hey, hey, hey,"_ I said, trying to calm her down. _"I… I'm not gonna let that happen."_ I cursed myself internally for making a promise I wasn't sure I could keep. I could barely take care of myself. _"I'm not in great shape, but I can help you."_

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "What's wrong with you?"

Slowly and gently, I lifted up the leg of my jeans, displaying my grapefruit-sized ankle. Brittany winced at the sight of it.

"_That blue stuff messed up my powers. Whatever it is, it hasn't stopped yet. It's still happening."_

Her eyes left my ankle and returned to Quinn, who looked even more disheveled than when we landed. Her nose was bleeding again.

"_You're going to have to trust me just a little bit today,"_ I said. _"If not, we're all kinda screwed."_

"I guess I don't really have a choice then, do I?" she mumbled, wiping Quinn's nose with her shirt.

"_I guess you don't."_ I didn't want to let that statement settle in with her, so I kept talking._ "You said you know the way out. Where do we have to go?"_

"We're on the bottom floor now," she began. "The service elevators aren't far from here. We can just ride up to the top, go into the back room, and leave through the loading dock."

"…_how do you even know all that?"_

"Quinn and I worked here for a year when we were in high school."

"_I thought-"_ I stopped midsentence, realizing that I wasn't supposed to know that Brittany and Quinn had worked at Judy's Bridal. She clearly wasn't lying about CAPTAIN HAPPY'S since she seemed to know the layout of this hellhole, but she'd never mentioned it before. I realized there was probably a _lot_ of stuff I didn't know about her. The image of Brittany in a clown suit popped into my head. It was simultaneously arousing and terrifying.

She was waiting for me to finish my sentence, so I quickly said the first thing that popped into my head.

"_-I mean, I uh, I've never been in here before. I'm… I'm afraid of clowns."_

The corner of her mouth twitched.

"Don't worry," she said, trying not to laugh. "I'll protect you, Rumplestilt-"

"_Shut up,"_ I growled.

My heart beat started to slow again and a wave of nausea overtook me.

_YOU'RE JUST MAKING THIS HARDER ON YOURSELF._

I felt numbness in my fingertips and realized that the energy was slowly fading from them. A jolt of energy surged through my head. It felt like someone stabbed me in the brain with a knife.

_RESTRAIN THEM. BRING THEM TO KURT. HE'S GONNA FIND YOU IN HERE ONE WAY OR ANOTHER._

I panicked.

"_Okay, we have to move. Now."_

"Hold on a sec," Brittany said. She darted around a pyramid of super-sized lollipops.

"_Brittany!"_ I hissed. _"Come back here!"_

Kurt, Blaine, and Wes could have been lurking around any corner and I didn't want her darting off by herself. When she came back, she had a large shopping cart.

"We can put Quinn in here," she said. "I'll push her and you can lean on it."

She helped me stand and loaded Quinn into the cart. Quinn looked like an American Girl doll that we were going to buy for some unlucky child's birthday gift. Brittany grabbed onto the cart's handle and I took my position at the side, holding onto it for balance.

"You ready?"

_BRING THEM TO KURT. THEY BELONG TO HIM._

The light in my left eye flickered and went out.

"_Ready as I'll ever be."_

* * *

><p>Hell has always been represented as this gigantic, fiery pit where little devils poke you with pitchforks all day and everyone is weeping and gnashing their teeth (whatever that means).<p>

I now know the truth. Hell is CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND.

CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND was the stuff of my worst nightmares. Despite being a place for kids, everything was supersized. Even as an (admittedly small) adult, I felt like I was in the land of giants. The candy was big. The toys were big. The games were big. The paths wound around the place with no rhyme or reason and everything was painted neon puke colors that made my head throb.

My headache could also be attributed to Wes's Kiss of Death. My body felt weak and my zebra parka was suffocating me. The scariest part was my pulse. My heart was beating slower than it ever had before and the unpowered portions of my body felt freezing cold.

I hobbled alongside the cart and Brittany pushed slowly so that I wouldn't fall over. We'd put some stuffed bunnies in the cart by Quinn's head so that she wouldn't thrash and hurt herself when she seized. Neither of us mentioned the fact that if we did get out of the store alive, there might not be a way to reverse the effects of Wes's magic fairy dust.

"The service elevators are just around the bend," Brittany said. I was relieved. I didn't think I could hobble much further. We rounded a cluster of claw machines and there it was, our shiny steel bullet train to Heaven.

I eagerly leaned forward and pushed the call button.

"WELCOME TO CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND!" the elevator screamed at the top of its electronic lungs.

"Whoops," Brittany said from behind me. "Forgot about that."

"THE HAPPIEST PLACE IN OHIO!"

"_Why does the service elevator talk?"_ I asked angrily.

"All the elevators talk," she said. "You learn to tune it out after a while."

I shushed the elevator, urging it to stop giving away our position._ "Shut up! Shut up, you stupid-"_

"GROUND FLOOR: HAPPY TIME ARCADE AND CANDY-PALOOZA!"

Brittany whipped around, scanning the area for any sign that we'd been discovered. "It's not as loud as you think it is. If they're upstairs, they won't hear it over the circus music."

The elevator opened and the thing was full of clowns. I filled my lungs with air, ready to let out the Mother of All Horrified Screams, but Brittany punched me hard in the back.

"Don't you dare!" she ordered. "Don't even think about it!"

I choked the air out of my lungs and forced the scream back into my soul.

"Oh god," one of the clowns pleaded. "Please, please don't shoot us!"

All of the clowns were cowering away from us in dramatic poses, awaiting their impending death in the most comically tragic way possible. I couldn't blame them for being scared. I looked like a bad acid trip and Brittany was carting around a girl who looked damn-near dead.

"We're not going to shoot you," Brittany explained. "We need to get in the elevator-"

"Well, if it isn't the ice queen and the churro thief."

A short, fat clown with a top hat and a monocle squeezed his way to the front of the pack. It was the one and only CAPTAIN HAPPY. I cringed and hobbled backwards, bumping into Brittany.

Brittany leaned around me and waved. "Oh hi, Mr. Happy!"

"For the millionth time, it's CAPTAIN HAPPY!" he barked. "What in the world are you doing here, Brittany? Don't you know some nutjob is destroying the mall?"

"Yes, and that nutjob is in the store now," she said. "We need to get in the elevator so we can-"

"No," CAPTAIN HAPPY said, cutting her off.

"We have to get upstairs-"

"The mall is on lockdown so you can't get out of the store. The elevators don't even work right now." He pressed a button and the doors began to slide closed. "This is our hiding place and you're drawing attention to it. Get lost."

One of the clowns threw his arm out, causing the doors to reopen.

"But CAPTAIN, they're hurt-" he started.

"If you like them so much, then get out and go with them!" CAPTAIN HAPPY snapped.

The clown gave us a sorrowful look before sliding down the wall silently. CAPTAIN HAPPY pressed the button again and the door closed in our faces.

"HAVE A HAPPY, HAPPY DAY!" the elevator squawked.

I turned around to face Brittany, who was scowling at the closed elevator doors.

"I think it's time for him to get over that churro thing," she muttered. "That was like, six years ago."

If Brittany was the churro thief, then Quinn must've been the ice queen. Apparently, CAPTAIN HAPPY had some lingering resentment towards his former employees. Not letting us in the elevator over stolen dough and a bad attitude was pretty childish in my book.

"_Are there any other ways to get to the top floor?"_

"The escalators are probably still on," she said, "but they're in the middle of the store. There's no way we can get out without being seen."

"_Can we get out at all? The clown said the loading dock is locked down."_

"Can you blast a hole through a steel door?" Brittany asked.

"_Normally, yes."_ I sighed heavily. _"Brittany, I'm losing power. If we get attacked… there's only so much I can do."_

"I know, but it's not like we can hide in here forever. Quinn needs a doctor and it looks like you do, too."

Right on cue, Quinn's body began to twitch. A considerable amount of blood was flowing from her nose and she got paler by the second. Every time Quinn had a seizure, Brittany looked like she was the one in pain.

_NOW! WHILE SHE'S DISTRACTED! TAKE HER OUT. YOU'VE GOT ENOUGH STRENGTH FOR THAT._

I leapt away from the cart and tripped on my bad ankle causing me to crash into the display behind me. Giant paddleballs and slingshots rained down on me from above. Brittany didn't move until Quinn stopped seizing.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, pushing the cart away from the mess I'd made.

"_Hiccups."_ I stuck out my hand and she helped me up so that I could hop back to the shopping cart.

The voice in my head was scary. It was far less persuasive than it had been when Wes was around, but it was just as persistent in its attempts to get me to hurt Brittany and Quinn. I didn't know how long I'd be able to fight it off.

"Hiccups? I could scare them out of you," Brittany offered.

I coughed and shook the fuzz out of my brain. _"I don't think that will be necess-"_

She jumped forward and shoved me hard in the chest, making me lose my balance. I pinwheeled my arms wildly to right myself. Brittany quickly grabbed my shoulders and steadied me.

"_Are you crazy?"_ I gasped, putting my hand over my heart. It should've been racing, but it continued to beat slowly in my chest. Even adrenaline wouldn't speed up my pulse.

"Did it work?" She squinted, staring into the darkness of my hood. "I wanted to do it when you'd least expect it."

"_Yes,"_ I lied. _"You scared them right out of me. Now don't ever do that again."_

She gave a self-satisfied nod, followed by a serious look.

"Escalators?" she asked gravely.

"_Escalators,"_ I agreed. I steadied myself, ready for her to push the cart.

Instead of pushing, Brittany bent down and picked up one of the large paddleballs that had fallen on me. She tossed the rubber ball into the air and used two hands to swing the giant paddle. It looked a little awkward at first, but within seconds, she had a rhythm going and was swinging like a pro. After thirty seconds or so, she stopped the ball and slid the paddle into the cart next to Quinn.

"For protection," she said, answering my unasked question. And then we were off.

We pushed the cart back to the way we came, but this time we avoided the trampoline area and went through the arcade. It was dark except for the glowing screens of the arcade games and some spooky black lights. When we reached the other side, we stood at the edge of the arcade's darkness, knowing that when we stepped into the light, we would be exposed and vulnerable. Somewhere out there, they were waiting.

The main area of the ground floor was a wide open space lined with really big figurines. There were dinosaurs of all types, human-sized toy soldiers and Barbies, suits of armor, and Hot Wheels cars that were probably street legal. It was all overwhelmingly creepy and it made me glad that I'd thrown a fit on my birthday all those years ago.

On the other side of the main area, the escalators loomed. They seemed infinitely long even though they only went up to the second story. Bins of oversized toys and candy lined the railing so that kids could grab goodies even as they traveled between floors. At CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND, the opportunities for adults to spend money were limitless. Another set of escalators went from the second story to the third. We needed to scale both of them, and quickly.

"_Is the cart going to fit on the escalator?"_

"It will fit, but once we get it on there, I don't think we can push it up. Or at least I can't. I don't know about you."

Normally, I could pick the whole cart up and run it to the top of the escalator, but with my leg in its current condition, I wasn't going to be much help.

"_So we're just going to be sitting ducks for two entire escalator rides? Awesome."_

"That's why this is Plan B, not Plan A." Brittany produced a hair tie from the pocket of her khakis and pulled her hair into a pony tail. "Unless you have a better-"

She stopped abruptly, staring straight ahead.

"_What?"_ I followed her gaze.

Sitting nonchalantly on the base of the suit of armor was Kurt. He looked exactly the way he did the first time we met, except maybe a little more pissed off. A long, curved, black object lay across his lap. The metal collar from Finntastic's super suit was dangling from his wrist like an ugly, ill-fitting bangle.

"Ladies!" he called. "A word, please."

Either Brittany assumed that Kurt was only addressing her and Quinn or she was too frazzled to notice what he'd said. She didn't move and Kurt made no move to approach us.

"He's really out there," she said shakily. "Part of me was kind of hoping he found a sale in the mall somewhere and left."

"_We can go back the other way,"_ I whispered. _"Or maybe we can just… um…"_

"This is it, Rumplestiltskin. This is the only way out."

"_If I go distract him, maybe you can go back through the arcade and find a place to hide until the cops get here,"_ I suggested.

"Who knows when that's going to be? I can't wait for help that might not come." She shook her head sadly. "If you want to go back, I won't blame you."

"_I told you I was going to help you."_ I reached for her hand, but pulled back. _"I'm just worried that you're not thinking this through. Brittany, we could all die."_

"How is that different from any other day?" she asked.

I didn't have an answer for that.

"You can do what you want, but I'm going." She said it with such finality that I couldn't doubt her.

"_Then I'm going, too."_

_WHY ARE YOU RISKING YOUR LIFE FOR HER?_

I didn't have an answer for that, either.

Brittany leaned over the cart, adjusting the stuffed bunnies on each side of Quinn. Quinn looked genuinely terrible. The blood was gushing out of her nose now and her skin was as white as a sheet. Brittany was right, Quinn didn't have time to wait for the cops. She bent down by Quinn's ear and began to speak quietly to her.

"I'm sorry for what I said," she whispered. "I didn't mean it. I was mad. I don't want that to be the last thing I ever say to you. So if you can hear me, I love you, Quinnie."

I swallowed hard, thinking of my own best friend. All the lies I'd told her. All the things I'd never get to say to her now that Brittany, Quinn, and I were about to stare death right in its baby soft, well-moisturized face. I would've given anything in the world just to be able to tell Mercedes that I was sorry for lying and that I loved her so, so much.

There were a lot of things I hadn't gotten to say to Brittany, either. Watching her being so forgiving with someone who had hurt her, so brave just for the slim chance that she might be able to save her friend, made my heart swell and my chest hurt with feelings I didn't have a name for. I looked away, feeling a little lightheaded.

She cleared her throat and stood, discreetly wiping a tear.

"Ready?" She squared her shoulders and adjusted her grip on the handle of the cart.

"_Ready. On the count of three, we'll make a run for it."_

"You can't really run," she pointed out. "You should probably hop in the cart."

I didn't respond and she rolled her eyes. "You're not that heavy, I can push both of you."

I hadn't ridden in a shopping cart since I was a kid. Luckily, there was room for both of us. Feeling a little embarrassed, I readjusted Quinn's body so that she was sitting up and swung my bad leg into the cart. I pulled the rest of my body in and hunkered down into an awkward one-legged squat. My heart thudded in my chest, slowing its rhythm once again. I swallowed, clearing my head for whatever was waiting for us.

"_Okay. On my count. One-"_

A loud explosion rocked the top floor, causing chunks of plaster to fall from the sky and crash to the ground below. Brittany and I looked up, searching for the cause of the disturbance, but we couldn't see anything from where we were standing. Kurt pulled his phone out of his coat pocket and put it to his ear.

"Wesley, what in the world are you doing up there?" he snapped.

I leaned forward in the cart, pointing towards the escalator. _"Quick, he's not paying attention! One, two, three!"_

Brittany dashed forward, running across the open space like a contest on Supermarket Sweep. The shopping cart was awfully loud and the sound of metal rattling against metal filled the air.

"Go, go, go!" Brittany repeated her mantra over and over, urging herself on as she raced across the store.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Blaine was sitting in the open jaws of the T-Rex to our right, looking down at us. He climbed up to sit on the T-Rex's snout and lobbed a glob of gel in our direction.

I turned my upper body towards him and summoned all the energy I could. I couldn't get it to flow to my fingertips, so I gathered it in my palms and shot a beam into the air. The gel ball exploded.

"Nice shot!" Blaine shouted. "Let's see how good your aim really is!"

He ran both hands through his disgusting hair and began rapidly slinging balls of gel at us. My days of training at McKinley came rushing to the forefront of my mind. Muscle memory took over and I blasted the gel globs out of the sky with my palms and my good eye. But even at McKinley, I could never manage to hit all of my targets. I missed a glob and it hit one of the cart's front wheels, cementing it to the floor. We jerked to a halt.

Brittany let out a frustrated yell, leaning forward and putting all of her strength into pushing the cart. It budged, but only an inch or two. I hopped out to help.

"No! You watch him!" she yelled, pointing back at Blaine.

I spun around just as Blaine started another volley. This time, he aimed for Brittany, but there was no way in hell I was letting him hit her. I aimed at the dinosaur's head, blasting it in its prehistoric face. Its skull cracked in half and Blaine rolled backwards to avoid injury. He flipped down the dinosaur's back and fell into a dunk tank below.

Brittany had stopped pushing and was looking in the other direction, watching as Kurt uncrossed his legs and stood.

"_Ignore him!"_ I pushed hard against the cart, but my good leg contained all the strength of an overcooked spaghetti noodle. I gave a hard shove with my arms and the puddle seemed to give a little. Brittany started pushing again, still watching Kurt as he held the long, black object in front of him and put his hand on the end. When it was oriented properly, I finally recognized the object as a scabbard. With a dramatic flourish, he grabbed the handle and pulled a shiny katana from the sheath.

Brittany barked out a laugh.

"It's okay," she panted. "It's a toy. They sell them upstairs in the gift shop. It's plastic."

"_Great,"_ I said, relieved. I bent down in front of the cart. _"Here, keep pushing. I'm gonna try to melt this crap."_

Achieving accuracy without the use of my fingertips was damn near impossible. I charged up the side of my hand and tried to saw at the puddle while Brittany shoved herself repeatedly against the cart. All the while, we watched Kurt.

Kurt was watching us, too. He stared us down like a hawk as his arm began to glow. Purple light spread from his elbow, up his wrist, and up the sword.

"What is he doing?" Brittany asked.

"_I'm not sure, but I think I'm almost done here."_

The wheel snapped out of the puddle of gel, finally free, but now it was covered in grossness. It still wouldn't turn.

"_Try dragging it,"_ I said, looking over my shoulder for Blaine.

Brittany swung the cart around so that it was facing the other direction and leaned backwards. Pulling it seemed easier than pushing, even if that wheel was making everything ten times more difficult.

"Come on!" she panted, dragging the cart. "Hop in!"

Kurt stuck the sword out behind him and slid it slowly up the side of the suit of armor. The armor glowed faintly as the sword swept over it and it began to crumple on one side, almost like it was being sucked into the sword. After a few seconds, the crumpling stopped and the purple light faded. I was halfway in the cart when, without warning, Kurt spun around in a circle, swiping the sword rapidly as he twirled. When he stopped, the helmet on the suit of armor fell to the floor. Then half of the torso. Then the other half. Then one of the legs fell off below the knee.

"_Brittany… I thought you said that sword was plastic."_

"It _is_ plastic."

"_It _was_ plastic,"_ I whispered, shocked._ "It's not plastic anymore."_

"Uh oh."

Satisfied with his work, he turned, grinning from ear to ear. Then he broke into a run, charging straight for us.

"_RUN!"_

Brittany pulled the cart as fast as she could. She darted across the floor and reached the escalator, but Kurt was right behind us. I shot at him, but what he lacked in speed, he made up for in agility, dodging all of my shots without breaking a sweat. With a Herculean scream, Brittany pulled the cart onto the escalator and we started our slow ascent to the second floor. I knew she wasn't going to be able to pull it up any further. We really would be sitting ducks for the whole escalator ride and Kurt was in the mood for mallard.

When Kurt reached the bottom step of the escalator, he jumped into the air and landed with a foot on each of the escalators handrails. I hopped out of the cart, putting myself between him and my blond companions.

"I've given you too many chances to pick the right side," he said, pushing Finntastic's collar up his arm until it rested on his shoulder. Light reflected off of his very-real katana and I knew that I was about to be in a world of hurt.

He swung at my head and I ducked, losing some of the orange fringe from my hood in the process. I leaned against the cart and shoved my hands out in front of me, ready to blast him backwards. My palms glowed brightly for a few milliseconds before fizzling out completely. The energy stopped at my wrists.

"_SHIT!"_

Kurt laughed and swung his sword again, this time in a downward motion. I hopped to the right to avoid the blow. The sword came crashing down, slicing through the metal of the shopping cart like butter. It stopped halfway through, but the long blade and the awkward angle caused it to get stuck in the cart's metal grid. As he leaned backwards and tried to tug it free, I grabbed the handle, hoping to get the sword away from him.

"You know, it's a shame we couldn't work this out," Kurt grunted, using all of his weight to pull the sword back. "But I warned you. If you're not with me, then you're again-"

I blasted him with an eyebeam from my good eye. Even at close range, the beam was weak and poorly aimed. Much like a bad Pokémon move, it wasn't very effective. Finntastic's collar took the brunt of the blow and cracked at the impact. Kurt looked down at the damaged ring of metal, horrified.

"NO!" he roared. "You idiot! What have you done?"

Blinding, purple light traveled out from his skin and into everything touching him. The sword. His arms. My hands.

I screamed in pain and jerked my hands away, but it was too late. My hands were shiny and metallic like the blade of the katana. Kurt pulled the sword out of the cart and I just stared at my hands in shock.

"You've ruined everything!" he screamed.

He sent a new wave of purple light up the sword and raised it high above his head. With a powerful grunt, he brought it down. I didn't have anything to block with except my body. I threw my hands up and caught the blade with my metal palms. The sword came down hard and even though it didn't slice through me, it burned like hell. Kurt leaned hard against me and I let out a distorted yelp.

"No! Stop!" Brittany cried out. I heard the cart rattle behind me, but I ignored it. If I had to endure this pain so that Brittany might have a chance of escaping and getting Quinn to a hospital, then so be it. I leaned backwards over the edge of the cart, gripping the blade harder and trying to unbalance Kurt.

Something large and round whipped past my head and hit Kurt in the face. Kurt's head snapped back as the big rubber ball bounced back into Brittany's waiting hand. I turned my head slightly to see her standing in the shopping cart behind me.

Kurt tried to pull the blade back, but I held it tightly. There was no way I was giving him a chance to swing at her. My body jerked and cold air crept into my chest cavity.

"I'm not in the mood for games, little girl," he said angrily.

"Good," Brittany replied, "neither am I."

She tossed the ball up in the air and her other hand came up, holding her paddle. She grabbed the paddle with both hands and hit the ball, sending it sailing right into Kurt's face. He had no way to block it, so it hit him right in the nose.

"Stop that!" he yelled.

Like a faithful pet, the ball returned to her and she hit it again, nailing him right in the mouth.

"Mmph!" Kurt cried. With a powerful tug, he pulled the katana out of my hands and swung at the ball as it flew towards his face. The glowing sword and the rubber ball connected in a bright flash of purple light and in an instant, liquid metal enveloped half of the ball. The rubber half of the ball hit the paddle and it bounced back at Kurt, hitting him right in the eye. He screamed, dropping the sword as glowing, liquid metal started to cover the left side of his face. In a blind panic, he stumbled backwards, losing his footing. Acting on instinct, I lunged forward and yanked Finntastic's broken collar off of his arm. He didn't seem too concerned with it at that moment. He fell into one of the toy bins on the side of the escalator and began to slowly slide to the bottom, crying out as his clawed at his face.

Brittany's eyes were wide. "I totally didn't mean to do that."

"_Well, thank god you did,"_ I said, shoving the collar into the pocket of my parka.

We reached the landing for the second floor and Brittany yanked the cart off of the escalator, pulling it out from behind me in the process. I fell backwards on my ass.

"Come on!" she called. She pulled it onto the second set of escalators. She was still facing me, so she didn't see the thick cloud of blue smoke billowing down from the third floor and filling the air on the second.

"_Brittany, wait!"_ I screamed.

I scrambled off the ground and got onto the escalator, but when I reached the cart, the light in my good eye went out. I gasped as the temperature in my chest dropped to a new low. My upper body spasmed and my heart gave a single, hard thud in my chest before it stopped beating completely. I slumped over, falling halfway into the shopping cart.

"No!" Brittany jumped into the cart next to Quinn. She grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard.

"Wake up!" she cried "Hang on! We're almost there!"

The coldness that had taken over my limbs filled my entire body. I could feel Brittany dragging my limp frame into the cart, but I couldn't see. I couldn't move.

"Please don't do this now," she begged. I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was on the verge of tears. "I can't get you both out of here by myself. Rumplestiltskin, wake up!"

I wanted to call out to her. I wanted to tell her to get out of the cart and run back downstairs. Quinn and I were probably goners anyway. There was no reason for her to die, too. But I couldn't move or speak. I couldn't warn her. This time, I wasn't going to save either of them. The ice cold skin of Quinn Fabray began to twitch erratically against my metal hand as she started another seizure.

Brittany broke down.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered. "I tried. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry-"

I could tell the second we entered the smoke. Brittany stopped her apologetic mantra and slumped over on top of me. Quinn stopped seizing. Every hair on my body stood up and the air felt electric and toxic at the same time.

_NOW ARE YOU GOING TO PLAY NICE?_

A hum of energy filled my body. My eyes blinked on, now a bright shade of unnatural blue, and the coldness inside of me increased tenfold. Energy flowed through me, healing my ankle almost instantly and melting the metal coating from my hands. Without any instructions from my brain, my body pushed Brittany off and lifted itself out of the cart. When we reached the top of the escalator, I pushed the cart out in front of me and stood rigidly like a solider. I was moving against my own will, like a life-sized marionette.

_I KNEW YOU'D COME AROUND. BRING THE REPORTERS TO THE FRONT OF THE STORE._

I steered the cart toward the entrance and mechanically began to push Brittany and Quinn deeper into the fog.

_Stop! What the fuck are you doing? It's WES! Don't let him control you!_

I ignored that other annoying voice in my head, stiffly marching through the store.

The top floor of CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND was on fire for reasons that quickly became clear. Flying high above Wes's blue smoke and just below the black smoke of the fire, Ben zoomed by on his hoverboard, tossing fireballs at some unseen enemy below. He spotted me and changed his course, flying away from the fight.

"_Finally! We've been looking all over for you! What's with the basket full of blondes?"_

_KILL HIM._

I raised my hand and blasted an energy beam in his direction. He swerved out of the way, narrowly avoiding my attack. I screamed internally at myself as my body shot off a round of energy at him, trying to knock him off of his board. I had no control.

"_Goddamnit!"_ he yelled. _"Berlin, we've got a big problem here!"_

He leaned back and shot upward, disappearing into the black smoke.

Someone tackled me from behind and we both went flying into a display of clown props. The body of my assailant landed on top of me and to add insult to injury, a rubber chicken fell on my head. Mind control or not, I was ready to get the hell out of CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND. Displays of giant toys kept falling on me and I was really starting to get annoyed. My attacker thought it was funny. I could feel him laughing.

"_Tanto tiempo! Parece que siempre nos reunimos en la locura, eh?"_

I couldn't see David's face because of his helmet, but he was the only Power Ranger I knew that could speak Spanish.

"_Get your filthy hands off of me!"_ my mouth growled. My body fought him, wiggling back and forth to break his hold, but he had enough super strength to keep me bound.

"_I would, but Wes has your mind messed up,"_ he said._ "We gotta get you out of here."_

"_Fuck you!"_ I thrashed against him with everything in me. He was having a hard time restraining me.

"_Ay Dios mío,"_ he grumbled. _"How did I know this was going to be difficult?"_

I was just about to try head butting him when Ben zoomed back out of the smoke and flew over us. A large ball of hair gel flew past him and splattered on a nearby wall.

"_Is she gone?"_ he asked, hovering right above our heads.

David nodded. _"Her body's here, but there's nobody home."_

"_Who are these people in the shopping cart?"_

"_I don't know, but they look like they need medical attention."_

"_Take them out back. Optimus has some extra bots and he can get them out of here. I'll distract these jokers."_

"_I can take Santana myself, but what about Amsterdam?"_ David asked. _"We can't just leave him here."_

"_Optimus has something for his ass, too. Give me five minutes and I'll bring him right out."_

Ben took off again, this time swooping low into the blue smoke. David rolled off of me. He was on his feet and behind me before I even made a move.

"_Time to go, girl. Let's not make this any harder than it has to be."_

I moved slowly, picking up a rubber chicken as I stood. Without warning, I turned and flung the fake bird at his head. He caught it in his hand easily and just shook his head at me. In his other hand, he was holding a small weapon. It looked like a handgun, but it had a big plastic tank on the back. The tank was full of Goo.

I stopped moving. I coughed hard, trying and failing to fill my lungs with air. All I could think of was horrible, burning pain.

"_What… what's that?"_ I asked.

"_You know what it is."_

_DO NOT LET HIM GET AWAY. TAKE THE REPORTERS AND BRING THEM TO KURT._

My hand twitched, but everything else remained frozen.

David spotted the movement. He raised the gun and pointed it at me. _"Don't make me use it on you. I really don't want to, but I will if I have to."_

_DO NOT LET HIM GET AWAY._

Wes's commands were more forceful in my head and my foot involuntarily moved forward. The rest of my body, however, refused to follow.

David watched me carefully. _"You remember how this feels, Santana. You know this pain. The worst physical pain of your life. You can't handle it again. You will do anything in your power not to have to experience that pain again."_

I swallowed thickly, remembering every horrible second of my time in Artie's Goo Lagoon. The only thing keeping me from having a panic attack was the fact that Wes was controlling my physical reactions. My heart hadn't beaten in over fifteen minutes.

He walked backwards, still pointing the Goo gun at me, and grabbed the shopping cart. My body lurched forward a few steps, but he leveled the gun at my head and I stopped so suddenly that I almost tripped over my own feet.

"_You can follow behind me, that's fine,"_ he said. _"You need to come with us, too. But if you try anything, I'll shoot you. If you cooperate, we won't have a problem."_

"_This is really fucked up, just so you know," _I spat angrily. "_You're supposed to be my friend or something."_

"_You threw a rubber chicken at me. That's disrespectful. Until Wes gets out of your head, all bets are off."_

David started walking through the store, which was pretty dark with all the different kinds of smoke filling the air. He walked backwards, keeping the gun on me while pushing Quinn and Brittany ahead of him. Every now and then, he'd look forward to quickly make sure we weren't about to run into something. The sounds of Ben blowing things up echoed through the store. Things crashed and shattered. The added bonus of having CAPTAIN HAPPY'S circus soundtrack playing in the background made everything that much more surreal.

The shouting voice in my head was enraged at my inability to follow orders.

_SHOOT THE GUN OUT OF HIS HAND. DISARM HIM. USE YOUR SPEED._

Unfortunately, I didn't know how fast or how strong David really was. Since he'd already manhandled me a few minutes before and I couldn't guarantee that I could disarm him without being shot, my mind wouldn't allow me to try it. All the mind control in the world couldn't make me risk that. Following behind them was the best I could do.

The smoke started to dissipate as we reached the back of the store. There was a large, jagged hole in the back wall of CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND. Right outside the hole, there were three large robots, each armed with huge wrist-cannons. The explosion we'd heard earlier suddenly made a lot more sense. As we approached, one of the robots stepped forward.

"It's about time! What took you so long?" Himanshu's voice came out of the robot's head and I could only assume he was sitting inside of it. The robot pointed at its imaginary watch, mechanically miming his impatience.

"_Patience is a virtue, my friend,"_ David said. _"Have things been okay out here?"_

Himanshu pointed to a stack of battered SUVs behind him. "Some of Kurt's guys got a little too close. Had to run them off. Got some reinforcements coming to pick up our… problem child."

"_And the cops?"_

"Most of them left to stop that homeless riot downtown and now they can't get back in."

"_Homeless riot?"_

"I sent a ScoutBot to check it out. These 'homeless' guys are a bunch of clean shaven muscleheads with the same haircut. Looks like Kurt's guys threw on some street clothes and went out there to create a diversion. The cops fell for it and they all went downtown. Now there's a huge line of armored SUVs forming a perimeter around the mall. SWAT's got a problem on their hands."

"_That's good for us. If the cops are distracted, we shouldn't have any issues getting out of here."_

"Well, Donkey Kong is still out there throwing barrels at them. At this point, the cops will probably pay for our gas to get home if it means we'll take him back with us."

David sighed and pushed the cart to Himanshu with his foot, keeping the gun trained on me._ "Here, load them up." _

Himanshu gently scooped Brittany out of the cart and handed her to one of the robots. Half a second later, the robot blasted off into the sky and she was gone. If I could've moved, I would've flown after her- not because Wes had ordered me to bring her to Kurt, but because Himanshu's robots didn't seem to come equipped with seatbelts and I feared for her safety. Quinn was given the same treatment: handed to a robot and evacuated. As the second robot took off, six new robots landed and stood facing Himanshu, awaiting orders.

"Does she need a bot, too?" Himanshu asked, pointing at me. "These guys are the reinforcements, but if she needs to go back now-"

David waved him off. _"She needs supervision. I'll fly her back."_

Himanshu's robot gave a very human shrug, which would've been funny under any other circumstances.

"_Come on, let's get out of here,"_ David said. He motioned for me to exit the store through the hole in the wall. I did as I was told, stepping through the rubble and walking into the parking lot.

Ben's voice came blaring out of David's helmet.

"_I'm coming your way and I'm bringing Hell with me! I hope you're ready back there!"_

Himanshu and his six robots took up fighting stances and angled themselves toward the hole in the wall. The ground began to shake beneath our feet. As David climbed through the hole, he tripped over what was left of the store's back wall and fell forward over the chunks of cinderblock. The gun flew out of his hand and skidded across the pavement, clattering to a halt at my feet. By the time he got up, I already had the gun trained on him.

"_Oh, how the tables have turned!"_ I announced dramatically.

Docile David sent Himanshu a death glare. _"I told you the grips on my boots were wearing down."_

"Sorry, I should've fixed that," Himanshu said distractedly, "but you two need to get out of the way now."

"_I'm not going anywhere, assholes."_ I stepped closer to David with the gun. _"Now tell me where you took the reporters and I might not put you through the worse pain of _your_ life."_

The ground shook harder and I stumbled to the side. David took a step forward, but I recovered and pointed the gun back at him.

"_We need to go now, Santana,"_ David pleaded.

"_I told you, I'm not going anywhere!"_ I shouted.

Ben flew out of the hole in the wall at a billion miles per hour and rocketed off into the sky.

"_INCOMING!"_

Two seconds later, a police cruiser sailed through the air, smashing into one of Himanshu's robots. The robot took the hit pretty well. The cop in the car, not so much.

Through the smoke and the haze, a familiar silhouette appeared. A mohawked man in a silver football uniform. He wasn't wearing his helmet, so I could see his face clearly. An eerie blue light shone in his eyes. He was carrying another cop car over his head, preparing to throw it at the people he'd called his friends for years. I knew what that was like. I was threatening David, who I actually liked, with something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

"_Come on, fellas. If you wanted to play, all you had to do was ask."_

His voice was slow and slurry. There was blood on his hands and somehow I knew it wasn't his. He turned his head to the side as if someone was talking to him. I knew he was listening to the voice in his head, the voice that sounded like his own, but not quite. Somewhere in the shadows, Wes the Almighty Puppet Master was watching the chaos he'd created.

An uncharacteristically sadistic smile spread across Puck's face, marring his features as he charged forward. The robots ran at him. The ground quaked in earnest as Puck sprinted toward us and flung the car over his head. In the same movement, he leapt into the air to dodge a robot and his fists grew to the size of suitcases. He landed hard in the parking lot, splitting the pavement and the ground beneath him with an earth-shattering **BOOM**.

_11._

Something deep in my brain, so far in my subconscious that it couldn't be reached by blue smoke, reacted violently. My teeth rattled in my head and I fell to my knees like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Searing pain ripped through my skull as blinding white light overtook the blue. Somewhere nearby, lightning flashed.

And mercifully, for the umpteenth time in my life, everything went black.

* * *

><p><strong>Spanish translation:<strong>

"Tanto tiempo! Parece que siempre nos reunimos en la locura, eh?" = "Long time, no see! It seems we always meet in the madness, eh?"

"Ay Dios mío" = "Oh my God"

**A/N:**

Regarding the first scene: You won't see any romantic Faberry or Quitt in this story, so for those of you who were worried… you're safe? XD

In case you were confused: the powers introduced in this chapter will be explained, so if you don't understand what Kurt is actually doing, don't worry :)

Here's a tidbit of trivia: Michael Bloomberg is sometimes called the Billionaire Mayor, which I didn't know until very recently.

Also: if you've never seen Supermarket Sweep, please YouTube it. It will forever change the way you buy cheese.

Thank you, thank you, and until next time, thank you.  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	14. Panacea

**A/N:** Some of this might be confusing. Some of it is angsty. I don't have much to say besides that, so without further ado: Chapter 14.

Disclaimer: Glee is owned by FOX and RIB.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14: Panacea<strong>

When I opened my eyes, all I saw was bubbling, green Goo above me.

Suddenly, I was very, very, awake.

_Green. Burning. Pain. Pain. Pain._

_5._

I let out a noise that was half-gasp, half-scream and tried to move myself away from the Goo, but my body was frozen in fear. A low surge of energy began tingling at the base of my neck and creeping up the back of my skull. My pulse sped up and adrenaline coursed through my veins as memories of seizures, limp bodies, and blue smoke came rushing back.

_Brittany. Kurt's got her. You have to find her. Get up._

_6._

Somewhere, a heart rate monitor began to beep wildly.

"Oh god," I croaked. My mouth was drier than the Sahara. "I can't- somebody, please! Help! Brittany!"

I flattened myself against the surface I was lying on, whining like a scared puppy. The sound of running feet barely registered in my brain and before I knew it, Ben, Tina, Figgins, and Himanshu were hovering over me.

"Hey, hey, calm down," Tina cooed. "You're okay. Just hang tight for a second." She picked up a doctor tool from the tray beside me and started checking my eyes with it.

"Where's Brittany?" I shrieked, unable to hold a coherent thought. "Where is she?"

_I have to get to her. I have to find her. I have to save her._

"Brittany's fine, now hold still!"

I squirmed away as Tina examined me, but Himanshu grabbed my head and held it in place. After a few seconds, Tina nodded and put the tool back on the tray. "She's clear."

Ben pointed a remote control at the ceiling. Instantly, the bubbling Goo disappeared and the ceiling turned into boring, grey cinderblock. My body deflated, sinking into the mattress beneath me.

"What the… it's a fucking hologram?" I was disoriented and confused.

Ben twirled the remote in his hand and put it in his pocket. "Just a safety precaution. We didn't want you getting out of bed if you weren't in your right mind."

Puck waved from the bed next to mine. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you enjoy your nap?"

David was fast asleep in the bed on the other side of me, surrounded by machines. My stomach turned at the thought that I might be the cause of his condition.

"Puck, stop acting like you didn't just wake up five minutes ago," Tina said as she poured me a glass of water. I sat up and chugged it, forcing the contents of the glass down my throat, ice chunks and all. As I drank, I took an appraising look at the McKinley folks.

They all looked _terrible._

Himanshu's hair was sticking up in all directions and his clothes were stained with grease and cheese dust. It looked like he'd missed a few showers and hadn't slept in days. The skin on Ben's face and hands, which was normally the same warm brown as Mercedes's, looked ashy and gray in some places, red and raw in others. Every few seconds, his fingers would twitch and he'd take an extra deep breath, like he was calming himself down. The changes in Tina and Figgin's appearances weren't as drastic or as noticeable. Their hair was a mess and they looked a little disheveled, but what caught my attention was the way they were carrying themselves. They just looked incredibly _sad_.

Nothing seemed to be wrong with Puck other than the things that were usually wrong with Puck, and David just looked like he was in a deep sleep.

"Let me first say that I'm very glad to see that you're both awake and lucid," Figgins announced, donning a smile that didn't quite fit his solemn demeanor, but still seemed genuine. "It seems that we were correct in believing that Wes's mind control only works within a certain range."

The mention of Wes and mind control brought more memories rushing back. My pulse sped up and adrenaline coursed through my veins. White light began to cloud my vision, but I shook my head fiercely to clear it.

"Where's Brittany?" I asked, sitting up straight. "Is she okay? Is she safe?"

The last time I had seen Brittany, she was unconscious, lying limp in the arms of a robot.

_What if Kurt got her? What if he saw the robots taking off and had them shot down? What if she fell out of the sky and broke her neck-_

My hands clenched painfully in my lap. Tina put her hands over mine and waited until I made eye contact with her.

"Santana, calm down." She waved for everyone to step back. "Give her some air."

"I need to see Brittany. _Please_," I begged.

They all looked at each other in a way that clearly conveyed that a) something bad had happened and b) nobody wanted to be the one to tell me about it. My heart rammed itself into my throat as I prepared for the worst.

_He got her. He got her and Quinn and now-_

"They're not…" I closed my eyes as my mouth failed to form the most important word in the sentence. "Are they?"

"They're not dead," Tina answered, understanding the question I couldn't ask. I let out a relieved breath and sank back into the mattress again. "They're here in the building. They're both stable."

I wasn't stupid. I knew that "they're both stable" and "they're both fine" were two different things.

"I need to see for myself."

"Calm down first. Breathe." She started taking nice, slow breaths and stared me down until I imitated her. I matched her breathing and pulled oxygen deep down into my lungs. I caught Ben's eye and he mouthed the word "shake" to me, so I shook the tension out of my cramping hands and laid them flat on the bed. After a minute or two, the surge of energy died down and my heart rate returned to normal.

"Now, that everyone is calm," Figgins said, "there are a few things you two need to know about your condition so that you can understand some of the decisions that have been made on your behalf while you were unconscious. We'll all need to sit down and hear your accounts of the events that took place at the mall, but considering the current state of things, that conversation can wait a few days."

"This sounds way too serious to be anything good," Puck snorted. "How long were we out anyway?"

"You were both unconscious for a little less than two days."

It was almost the same tone he used when he told me that I'd been asleep for two weeks. A horrible feeling of déjà vu came over me and I began to dread what he was going to tell me next. I raised my hand and waited to be called on. Figgins rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Santana?"

"You'll have to excuse me for expecting the worst from you, Figgins, but are you about to tell me that some strange chemical has done something horrible to my body and changed me forever?"

He fidgeted nervously. "Well… not quite. In most situations, the foreign substance that was recently introduced to your system will have no effect on you."

_In most situations?_

I pushed that thought out of my head. I didn't care about me. I felt fine. I just wanted to know about Brittany.

I sat up straighter and clapped my hands together. "Great! I'm running on all cylinders. The Santana store is open for business. So how's Brittany? And Quinn, too. I guess."

No one spoke.

"They're here and they aren't dead," I continued, "so I think you should tell me what's going on before I get up and go find out for myself."

Figgins cleared his throat.

"Let's start from the beginning, shall we?" He tried to smile, but it looked so forced that he had to drop it. "I'm sure both of you are familiar with the Vitals Board."

Ben pulled out the remote that he had used to turn of the Goo hologram and pointed it at a random spot in the air. The Vitals Board appeared above us. I remembered it from my time in Alaska. It had everyone's names, faces, codenames, and vital health statistics on it. I was still there, listed as "Santana Lopez, Patient," but now there were two new names on the board.

"Brittany Pierce, Patient" and "Lucille Fabray, Patient."

Figgins gestured to the board. "As you both know, we embedded a chip into your arm that tracks your vitals and reports back to the board."

"Yup. Still grosses me out," Puck mumbled, running his fingertips over his forearm.

The chips were "standard McKinley procedure" and everyone had one. Even Artie and Jacob Ben Israel's vitals were still being reported to the board, despite the fact that everyone hated them and wished they were dead.

He turned to me. "Two days ago around noon, Himanshu's police scanner became inundated with reports of some strange activities occurring at the Lima Mall. Not long after, we noticed that your heart rate had plummeted well below what's considered acceptable for most human beings. We decided that those two incidents were probably linked and the team went to the mall to find you. Unfortunately, Puck walked inside with his helmet open and… well."

"I just wanted to finish my cheeseburger! I didn't know there was going to be crazy gas in the air!" Puck looked down at his lap, embarrassed that all this trouble had been caused because of something so silly.

"Well, it's a good thing you showed up when you did," I said, trying to make him feel better. "I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to make it out of there alive."

"Technically, you didn't," Tina corrected. "Wes's ability has some odd side-effects, most of which we have yet to discover. One of them is that your heart completely stops beating when he has complete control over you. I'm assuming he could make it beat for you if he really wanted to."

Puck tilted his head in thought. "That would explain the coldness."

"And what exactly is Wes's ability? Blowing crazy blue smoke at people?" I flipped through images of that day in my head, trying to remember everything that happened.

"That 'crazy blue smoke' isn't smoke at all," Tina explained. "It's actually a cloud of tiny spores. Once you breathe them in, they travel through your blood stream at a ridiculously high rate. When they reach your brain, they settle and begin to grow, releasing chemicals that allow Wes to control various parts of your brain."

Puck's eyes bugged out of his head. "That's so fucking scary that I hope you're lying."

"It's true, baby." Tina sighed as her eyes became glassy. "If you get too close to Wes, he'll pretty much have complete control over you. The closer you are, the stronger his influence is."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "But not anymore, right? Because that stuff is out of our heads. We're okay now… right?"

"Oh no, it's definitely still in there," Figgins replied. "We haven't found a way to remove or kill the spores. We've run some tests and they seem to be immune to most conventional methods of destruction."

"So we're just Wes's puppets forever," Puck said flatly.

Tina stroked his arm, obviously distressed by the prospect of losing her boyfriend to Wes's control. "As long as we keep you away from Wes, we can keep working out a solution."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, because we're _so_ good at staying away from Wes. Half the time you guys are _looking_ for Kurt and his crew."

"And that's exactly why you two won't be involved in our dealings with Kurt anymore," Ben said.

Puck snorted. "Like fuck I won't."

"Noah," Tina said softly.

"I'm as much a part of this team as everybody else," he argued. "I'm not gonna be sidelined because of some stupid brain dust."

"Puck, if Wes comes anywhere near you, you become a liability," Himanshu said. "I had a whole fleet of robots that couldn't stop you. With your strength, it's too dangerous to let you loose like that."

"Bullshit. I can control myself."

"What?! You _attacked_ us!" Ben yelled. "And the police! The only reason we were able to stop you was because you freaked Santana out and she hit you with a lightning bolt. It knocked you out."

_Oh. Whoops._

Puck threw his hands up, angry that he was being overruled. "There's nothing you can do to get this stuff out? What about the Goo? It can't like, heal this shit or something?"

"Funny you should mention that," Figgins said. The expression on his face told me that he didn't think it was funny at all. "The spores are _made_ of Goo and the Goo does not attack itself."

"So what you're saying is that we're screwed."

Figgins nodded glumly. "The Goo will protect your brain from any damage the spores try to cause, but it won't kill the spores."

I put my hand up again. "Back up there, doc. I heard brain damage."

"Yes, brain damage. The chemical that Wes uses to control your mind is toxic to the average human's brain. Once it's absorbed, it wreaks all kinds of havoc. The Goo in your system repairs that damage instantly. Within milliseconds, even."

"Santana, everything should be fine in your case because you've been SNIX'd," Tina explained. "The Goo is a permanent part of you and it will always be readily available to protect your brain."

She turned to Puck with a grim look on her face. A tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly turned away again, wiping her face on her lab coat.

"Puck, your situation is… different. Your brain is only protected as long as you're in a Juiced state."

Puck's brow furrowed for a second before a look of horrified realization dawned on him. Himanshu and Ben matched his expression.

"Oh fuck," he whispered.

"Oh F-word, indeed," Figgins sighed.

Ben shook his head. "Jesus Christ. When were you gonna tell us about this?"

"We're telling you about it now," Tina said.

"Excuse me, I'm a little slow today. Why is this a problem?" I asked, feeling stupid and out of the loop. "I thought you guys all get Juiced once a week or something."

"Not anymore," Himanshu said. "We're experiencing a little bit of a Goo shortage."

"More like a major Goo shortage," Ben muttered. "We don't have enough Goo for everyone to stay Juiced all the time. Now we only Juice when we have jobs to do, so we can make money and hopefully figure out a way to start producing Goo again."

"That's why David is… indisposed at the moment," Figgins said.

I took another look at David's motionless form and now I recognized the machines surrounding him as various means of life-support.

"So you just let the Goo wear off and now he's…" I didn't know what he was.

"Brain dead," Ben finished.

It occurred to me that I'd never asked David about his injuries. I knew Puck's car accident left him paralyzed from the waist down. I knew that a roadside bomb had burned Ben beyond recognition.

_Why did David sign up for the McKinley project? What the hell happened to him?_

"Don't worry, he's alright," Figgins assured me. "When another job opens up, we'll Juice him again and he'll be back to normal."

"Juice him with what?" Himanshu just shook his head and sighed. "We can't survive like this. This isn't sustainable."

"Everyone understands that, Himanshu-"

"Uncle Raj, I ran the numbers again this morning and they were bad enough then!" He flung his arm towards the Vitals Board hologram. "We Juiced _everyone_ last week and those jobs didn't pay off the way we'd hoped. We barely even have enough Goo to Juice _one_ person a week to go do a job or two. How are we going to manage constantly Juicing Puck _and_-"

Tina grabbed Himanshu's arm and forced it down, all the while staring at me with wide eyes.

"Stop," she hissed, barely allowing her lips to move. "She doesn't know."

Himanshu's mouth snapped shut and the two of them stared at me, not speaking.

_You're the "she" that they're talking about and the thing you don't know is probably something you don't want to know._

"There's something else, isn't there?" I asked.

"Santana… there are some things you need to understand." Figgins paused for a second, silently communicating something with his eyes to Tina. "As I said before, some decisions were made in your absence."

Tina turned to Ben, Himanshu, and Puck. "Can you guys give us a moment? We'll catch up with you all later."

Puck slid off his bed and the guys walked towards the door. Ben quickly pulled Puck close to him and began whispering, looking over his shoulder at me as they entered the hall.

I'm pretty sure I heard Puck gasp in the hallway. I knew whatever they had to tell me wasn't going to be good.

Figgins motioned for me to stand. "Come, Santana. Let's take a walk."

I hopped off the bed and followed behind Figgins and Tina as they walked directly across the hall and into the next room. The room was set up exactly like mine, except there were way more machines in it. They were all hooked up to the small, frail blonde in the bed, keeping her alive.

"Oh my god," I whispered, stopping in the doorway.

I didn't think Quinn could look worse than she had at the mall, but I was very wrong. She was paler than the sheets draped over her. No longer bleeding and seizing, she at least appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

"Jesus," I muttered under my breath. "He really did a number on you, didn't he?"

"The average human's brain is unable to protect itself from the damage caused by the spores," Figgins said from behind me. "This is the result."

My heart took off at a million miles an hour again.

"And Brittany?" I choked out.

Tina threw Figgins a nervous glance. "Quinn was exposed to the spores before Brittany, right?"

I nodded.

Tina walked around to the other side of the bed and pointed to an x-ray that was hanging on the wall. It showed the inside of Quinn's skull, where jagged crystalline structures jutted out every which way all over her brain. It looked like the Fortress of Solitude.

"Eventually, the spores stop growing and they start to crystalize," Tina said. "Once the crystals form, the body shuts down altogether. By the time we got Brittany and Quinn back here, Quinn's brain already looked like this. We were able to stop the process from happening to Brittany, but we don't know what to do for Quinn. We're using these machines to keep her alive until we can find some way to reverse the damage."

As much as I hated Quinn, I didn't think she deserved this. Maybe a Lima Heights style ass-whooping, but not _this_. It was worse than I ever could have imagined.

"And the Goo?" I asked.

Figgins frowned. "We've run some tests in the lab, using the spores on lab mice and letting their brains crystallize. We hoped the Goo might reverse the damage. Instead, it causes a somewhat violent chemical reaction."

"The crystals shatter," Tina whispered. I shuddered and she gave my upper arm a reassuring rub. "You don't have to worry about this happening to you, though. Since you already have Goo in your brain, the spores won't be able to form crystals. You're safe."

She didn't understand. It wasn't me that I was concerned about. All I could see was Quinn seizing, Quinn bleeding profusely from her nose, and Brittany breathing in the same cloud of spores that had caused those things to happen.

_If the spores turned normal human Quinn into a vegetable-_

"I'd like to see Brittany now," I said, trying to sound calm. "Please."

Figgins nodded. "Yes. I think that would be best."

We left the room and started walking down the hall, but Tina and Figgins strode past the rest of the patient rooms without stopping. I wanted to speak up, but I figured they knew where they were going.

The hallway ended and opened into a wide space, full of robots, various vehicles, and metal barrels that probably weren't full of Goo anymore. Everything looked pretty McKinley-ish. All of their facilities looked similar. We could've been anywhere in the world.

"Where exactly are we?" I asked.

"Right now, we're in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Lima," Figgins replied over his shoulder. "We got a very good deal on it from the city. It's been our temporary headquarters for the past few weeks."

We walked past Tina's office and finally came to a room with a radiation warning symbol on the door. Some part of me had to have figured out what happened at that point just because of where we were. All McKinley buildings were set up the exact same way, so it was pretty obvious.

Himanshu always had his own area with a billion computer screens and tools. The bedrooms were near the back of the building. There was a makeshift gym near the entrance. The lab was far away from everything else in case Figgins blew something up. Figgins' office was always right next to Tina's.

And the room next to Tina's office, the one with the radiation warning symbol on the door, was always used for _one _thing. So it's not like I didn't _know_.

But for some reason, part of my brain couldn't understand why we would be standing at the door of this particular room. Maybe I didn't want to understand.

Figgins punched a code into the keypad and the metal door slid open. I wasn't surprised by what I saw inside. The room looked the same as it did in Alaska and Canada. It was just four concrete walls with some barrels stacked in the corners. The tubes running from the barrels snaked neatly across the floor and the Goo flowing through them cast the room in an eerie green glow. Usually there were three metal chambers sitting on the floor, marked with large, black numbers: 44 for Ben, 45 for David, and 46 for Puck. There was only one chamber in this room. It was shiny and new and marked with a large, black 47.

"Why are we here?" I asked. "Where's Brittany?"

That _look_ was there again, written guiltily all over Figgins and Tina's faces. The look that meant all kinds of things that I didn't want to acknowledge.

"Santana," Tina said softly. "She's right here."

I shook my head because it didn't make any sense. I might have even laughed out loud.

"What the hell are you talking about? She's not _here_. You need to take me to wherever she is."

"She's right here," Tina repeated. She walked over to the large metal box on the floor and stood next to it.

"No, she's not," I insisted. My voice was shaking wildly and rising steadily in volume. "_You're_ here and I'm here-"

"Santana-"

"-and Figgins is here, but _Brittany is not here_. Please, guys. Stop fucking around."

The room was silent.

"_Please_," I begged. My voice cracked. "Please don't tell me you did what I think you did."

"It was the only way, Santana." Figgins put his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off roughly. I slowly made my way across the room, barely listening to his explanation as he spoke. "We took samples of spores from their clothing as soon as they got here and began running tests. We realized very quickly that we wouldn't be able to help Ms. Fabray for the time being, but we would be able to stop Ms. Pierce's brain from crystallizing if she underwent the Juicing process."

I stood over the chamber, which looked entirely too much like a coffin, and stared at the large black 47 that was printed on the top. I could see my own anguished expression reflected in the polished steel. Hot tears filled my eyes and made everything blur together into one depressing smudge.

You_ did this to her. This is all your fault._

I sank to the ground and slumped over the chamber, letting out a choked sob. Tina sat down on top of the chamber and I wanted to yell at her not to sit there. There was a person in there, a person who was having her life saved and ruined all at the same time.

"Everything's going to be alright," Tina cooed, stroking my head. "She's going to be okay now."

"Okay?" I wanted to laugh, but my expression twisted into a tortured grimace. "You think she's going to be okay with the fact that you're turning her into a freak? You think she's going to be okay with the fact that she's gotta get a chemical fix every week for the rest of her life? You think she's going to be okay with the fact that her best friend is basically _dead_? It's not going to be okay, Tina. This is never going to be okay."

You _did this to her. This is-_

"-all my fault. I did this to her. This is all my fault. I did it. It's all-"

Tina gently guided my head into her lap. "Fig, can you-"

"Yes, certainly," he said quickly and strode out of the room. The metal door slid shut behind him, leaving Tina and I alone in the soft green glow of the Goo tubes.

Tina continued to stroke my hair as I silently soaked her scrubs with my tears.

"Brittany might not be okay with all of the changes that are happening, but you know what she is going to be okay with? Being alive. Juicing her was the only way to do that. She's going to understand that and she's not going to hate you for any of this."

"You don't know that," I mumbled.

"I do know that. Even though I only met her for about 30 seconds that one time and she totally hated me, I saw how important you were to her. I can tell she cares about you a lot." She paused. "Did you do everything you could to stop Kurt from whatever he was doing at the mall?"

"Of course."

"And did you try your best to help her and Quinn?"

"Yeah, I tried, but it didn't-"

"So how can she be upset? I'm sure if you hadn't been there, she'd be much worse off than she is now."

"She'd be so much better off if she'd never gotten involved with me." I hugged Tina's leg painfully hard and clenched my jaws to stop the next sob. "This is such a fucking mess, Tina."

Tina sighed. "I know it is, but guess what?"

I looked up at her, waiting for her to lay some wisdom on me.

"There's nothing you can do about it."

I glared at her and rested my chin on her knee. "Never become a motivational speaker, Tina."

"No, really," she went on. "What can you possibly do to change this situation? Nothing. You can't get rid of the spores. You can't make it all go away. So don't get hung up on this when you can be concentrating on what you need to do next."

I rolled my watery eyes. "And what do I need to do next, oh wise one?"

A finger slowly lifted my chin and I was soon staring into Tina's dark brown eyes. "Be there for her. She's going to need you. Her life is about to change dramatically. You what that's like. Give her something you didn't have. A familiar face to be there when she wakes up. Someone she knows that can be strong for her. Someone who can guide her through the rough spots. Be her rock."

"I want to, but Tina… I've lied to her so much about all of this."

"About your powers or the fact that you've been running around in Puck's clothes, zapping people with lasers?" she asked.

I swallowed hard. "You guys know about that?"

"We do watch the news, Santana," she laughed.

"And you don't care?"

"Not really," she said. "You're a grown-up. As long as you don't end up getting _us_ in trouble, you're allowed to live your life as you see fit. I could see why you'd want to keep it a secret, though."

"Well, I've been outright lying about that and everything else," I said. "If I tell her the truth, she's never going to trust me again."

Tina dropped her finger from my chin. "So what are you going to do? Run home with your tail between your legs and let her go through this all alone?"

"No, I would never leave her," I said.

She shrugged. "Then I guess your choice is already made."

I took a slow, deep breath and let it out as I ran my hand over the cool metal of the chamber.

"When does she come out of this thing?" I asked wearily.

"Six in the morning," Tina said. She slowly moved to get up and I scooted backwards so she could stand. "Are you coming?"

I settled down next to the chamber. "I think I'm gonna just stay here. I don't… I don't want to leave her by herself."

Tina left the room. A few seconds later, she was back with a blanket and a pillow.

"Let us know if you need anything," she said. Then she left and we were alone.

* * *

><p>"I never wanted this for you."<p>

The metal felt cool and smooth under my lips as I whispered against it. I put my head back on my pillow and pulled the blanket up under my chin, snuggling up next to the coffin-shaped box.

"I wanted to keep all of this separate, you know? I wanted it to stay far, far away and never touch you. Guess I was asking for too much."

Talking to Brittany's chamber made me feel a little better despite the fact that it reminded me of sitting in the grass at Lima Heights Cemetery, telling the mundane details of my week to the headstone of ALMA LOPEZ, LOVING MOTHER, GRANDMOTHER, AND FRIEND, GRANT HER THY ETERNAL REST.

I stared into the shiny metal, looking past my reflection as if it would help me see Brittany's face. Was she resting peacefully? Was she in pain? Was she already feeling the effects?

"I hate that this happened to you, but I can't tell you how happy I am that you're alive."

I'd really almost lost her. The girl who lit up my bar with her smile and her laugh for six months had almost died. The girl who always found the silliest things to compliment me on ("nobody gets their cocktail shakers as shiny as yours, Santana") just so she could see my cheesy, dopey grin had narrowly escaped death. She was the same girl who comforted Mercedes while I was missing. The girl who, despite everything her family said, was trying to figure herself out. For _me_.

"I'm really, really happy that you didn't die because-" A dull ache in the center of chest flared up and I had to take deep breaths just to stay calm. I pushed my hand against my chest to keep my pounding heart from bursting out of my ribs. I forced a painful laugh around the lump in my throat, stopping the sentence in its tracks.

_Because I don't know what I'd do without you._

It was a scary thought for me to be having, especially about Brittany, who could potentially wake up with super powers and never want to see me again. Nonetheless, it had popped into my head and I didn't really know what to do with it. I didn't want to read too much into that thought and the emotions that might be associated with it. Just thinking about it scared the crap out of me.

"Promise me that when I tell you… the truth, that you won't hate me," I pleaded. My voice cracked and I didn't care. "Ok? Can you do that?"

She didn't answer. Alma never answered, either.

I scooted closer to the chamber so that the metal was pressed against my side. For the rest of the night I laid there, thinking of a million ways to tell Brittany the things I'd never wanted to say.

* * *

><p>Puck was standing over me when I woke up. I jumped when I saw him and smacked my head on the side of the chamber.<p>

"Ow! What the hell are you doing, you weirdo?" I rubbed my head and sat up groggily. I'd only slept for an hour.

"Tina wants me to do the chamber checks and get ready to move Brittany. Didn't mean to freak you out." He shifted from foot to foot. "Um, I kinda need you to move."

"Oh, sorry."

I picked up my blanket and pillow and moved out of the way. Puck bent down next to the chamber and started fooling with a small laptop near the Goo tubes. A robotic female voice began to make announcements as he fiddled with the computer.

"_Chamber Number Forty-Seven is currently in Stabilizing Cycle Five. The temperature is 108.7 degrees Fahrenheit. There are fifty minutes remaining."_

Ben walked in, rolling a gurney behind him. "Morning, folks. You know, we could've dragged a bed in here if- fuck!"

Stopping mid-sentence, he gritted his teeth and started vigorously scratching his body through his long-sleeved shirt. It took him a little while to get the scratching under control and when he did, he looked highly uncomfortable. His skin looked worse than it had the day before. He was starting to peel.

I took a few steps away from him. "Ok, now I'm awake. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I've only got a couple of hours left before I Lapse," he grunted, tugging at his shirt.

I looked at him blankly for clarification.

"A Lapse is what we call it when the Goo wears off," he explained. "I'm turning back into a pumpkin, Cinderella."

"Tina's gonna kick your ass if she sees you scratching like that," Puck said from the floor.

"We're out of burn salve and it itches like a motherfucker," Ben muttered, discreetly rubbing the places he'd been scratching. "Where are we at with this chamber?"

"Stabilizing Cycles," Puck said with a grimace, which Ben returned.

"What are Stabilizing Cycles?" I asked, fearing the answer.

"One hundred minutes in Hell," Ben muttered. "It's the only part of Juicing where you have to be awake. It's probably not as painful as SNIXing, but it's no walk in the park."

"Sorry, Brittany," Puck shouted at the chamber. "Stabilizing Cycle Five is a bitch. You're halfway done, though. Hang in there."

I hugged the pillow to my chest. "Wait, she can hear you?"

"If I yell." He pressed a button and the Goo inside of the tubes on the floor stopped flowing. "She should've woken up when the Stabilizing Cycles started."

He stood up and took a step back, gesturing for me to take his spot. "Here, you can talk to her if you want. Tina always talks to me when I'm stabilizing. It's hard to hear in there, though. There's a lot of machinery and pumps and shit. You gotta yell."

I stepped forward, but even after being with her all night, I had no idea what to say. Part of me was afraid to even speak. Once she heard my voice and knew I was there, there was no turning back. I stood there with my mouth opening and closing like a fish, but no words came out.

"You don't have to," Puck said quickly, realizing he'd put me on the spot. "I just thought you might want to, that's all."

"We could put a movie on," Ben suggested. "I always put the TV on in here when I'm about to Juice so that when I wake up, I have something to focus on."

"Do you have any Disney movies?" I asked hopefully. "She likes those."

Puck held up a finger. "Hold on, I'll see what I've got."

He ran out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a small TV on a cart and a DVD case.

"Here you go." He flung the case at me like a frisbee and I caught it just before it smashed into my face. The cover of the DVD showed a naked woman riding someone who was dressed in a kangaroo costume. The title of this family feature film was "Land Down Under."

"Puck."

"Yeah?"

"This is porn. This is Furry porn."

"No, it's not. I lost the real case. Open it."

I opened the case of "Land Down Under" to find the DVD for "The Lion King."

"I'm not going to ask any other questions because it's none of my business, but are you sure this is the _real_ Lion King? As in 'Disney's The Lion King'? I'd like to be sure before we put it in and I'm exposed to a genre of porn that I'd planned to be willfully ignorant about for the rest of my life."

He winked. "Looks like you'll just have to pop it in and see, now won't you?"

I glared at him and tossed the movie to Ben since he was closer to the TV. Ben looked at the case and laughed. "You're one freaky dude, Puckerman."

Luckily for me, the movie actually was "The Lion King." We sat down on the floor and for the next fifty minutes, we watched the movie with Brittany.

At the end of tenth Stabilizing Cycle, the small laptop near the chamber started beeping.

"_Stabilization Complete. Chamber Number Forty Seven will open in sixty seconds."_

"Oh shit, places everybody," Ben said, grabbing the gurney. He and pushed it to the foot of the chamber and Puck stood next to the chamber with his knees and arms bent.

I looked around frantically, looking for a way to be useful. "What should I do? What should I do?"

"Stop freaking out for one," Puck said, watching the laptop's screen. "You're acting like her water just broke."

"You need to be calm because she's not going to be," Ben said. "We probably should've discussed that part with you."

I narrowed my eyes. "What part?"

"She's going to be a little off for a while. There's going to be a lot of excess energy in her body. It takes a few Juicings before we can get the dosage correct and before her body knows how to handle it, so she's going to be ch-"

"_Process Complete. Door Opening."_

"It's time!" Puck announced. "Here we go, boys and girls!"

The top of the chamber popped open and I leaned forward to see inside. Puck pushed the door out of the way and bent down. All I could hear was heavy panting and all I could see around Puck's body were Brittany's long legs. She moaned in pain as Puck scooped her out of the box.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Puck quickly and gently moved her to the gurney. When he stepped back, I finally saw her face. Her blond hair was matted to her head with sweat. Her skin was red and angry-looking, standing out in stark contrast from her white hospital gown. Her lips were chapped and swollen. Her bright blue eyes were wild, searching the room frantically for something, anything. When they locked with mine, she let out a loud gasp.

Puck and Ben rolled the gurney out into the hallway just as she started trying to speak.

"Sa- Sa-"

"I'm here!" I ran up beside them. "I'm here, I'm right here."

Her arms and legs were shaking. She winced every time Puck or Ben would hold her shoulder or ankle to keep her from flying off the gurney as we quickly rounded corners.

"Sa- Sa- San-"

I willed back the tears that were threatening to fall, watching her struggle to say my name. "It's okay, B. Don't try to talk. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, okay?"

_Don't you dare cry, Lopez. Suck it up and be strong for her._

Her eyes stayed trained on my face, watching me intensely as we rolled through the building. I couldn't look away. I would've followed that gurney off of a cliff.

They wheeled her into a patient room and transferred her to the bed as gently as possible. Tina was already there, ready to doctor.

"She's not really gonna be 'all there' for a little while, Santana," Tina said as she began hooking Brittany up to machines. "She's very disoriented and she's probably gonna crash by the time I'm done examining her. You can wait outside if you want."

"No, I want to be here," I insisted.

The corner of Tina's mouth quirked up into a smile. "Atta girl."

Puck handed me a glass of ice water with a straw in it and I quickly put it to Brittany's mouth. She drank deeply, never letting her eyes leave mine.

"Alright, time for all Y-chromosome owners to leave the room."

"Keep us posted," Puck said. He filled another glass with ice water and left it on the side table before following Ben out of the room.

I kept my gaze locked on Brittany as Tina carefully wiped the sweat from her brow and spread some oily-looking ointment on her legs and arms. She kept struggling to say my name, but I could tell that she was out of it. Her eyes would become unfocused and her mouth would fall open every so often, like she was dozing off. Her body wouldn't stop shaking. My own hands shook as I gripped the edge of her bed. I whispered soft words of encouragement to her as I stood by her bedside.

Halfway through the examination, just like Tina had predicted, Brittany fell asleep. The shaking in her body lessened as her breathing slowed and the nervous energy in my own body slowly faded.

Once Tina was finished, she took off her gloves and tossed them in the trashcan. "She's going to be asleep for a few hours, but after that, she probably won't sleep again all week."

"All week?" I asked incredulously.

"She won't be able to. She'll be charged up, jittery, probably scared out of her mind. But you're gonna be here and you're going to be strong for her, right?"

"Always," I promised.

Tina smiled. "I'll be back later to check up on her. If you need anything, just holler."

* * *

><p>Even before she opened her eyes, I could feel the hum of energy as it raced through her body, almost like an electric current pulsing through her.<p>

When she finally did open them, she stared at me blankly for a minute like she had no idea who I was.

_Fuck. What if she doesn't remember me? But she tried to say my name before. What if-_

"S-santana." Her eyes were questioning, not like she didn't recognize me, but like she didn't understand my presence. Her breath was coming in short bursts and the shaking in her limbs was even more pronounced now that she was awake again.

I jumped up from my seat at the end of the bed and rushed to her side, reaching out to hold her shaking hands.

"Brittany," I said softly. I instantly felt overwhelmed. Tears welled up in my eyes again and I blinked them away.

"What's going on?" Brittany rasped. "Why are we here? Am I sick?"

The rapid-fire questions caught me off guard.

_Um… fuck._

"I… I…" I didn't know how to answer any of that. "Let's wait for the doctors to come back and we'll talk about it. How are you feeling?"

_She's _alive._ She's right here and she's okay._

Brittany's eyes roamed my face slowly and her puzzled expression deepened.

"I feel sick," she said hoarsely. "My head hurts."

_Damnit, Juicing was supposed to make her feel better, not worse!_

I didn't know how to help her so I handed her the glass of water from the side table. She drained it while watching me carefully and handed it back to me.

Looking down at her limbs, she frowned. "I feel like I just ate a billion Pixie Sticks."

I took her hands again and stroked her palms, which were no longer red and raw. "It's okay, just take a few deep breaths. Maybe that will help."

Brittany breathed in deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth about twenty times before we realized it was having absolutely no effect.

She gripped my hands tighter. "Santana, it's not helping. I can't stop shaking. What's happening to me? Where's my dad? Oh my god, where's _Quinn_? Is she alright-"

"Brittany, calm down for a second," I said in my most soothing voice.

"I'm trying, I _can't_," she whimpered. "What's wrong with me?"

"You… let's just try to get your shaking under control."

I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight to me. The shaking lessened slightly as she returned the hug and rested her cheek against mine.

"Better?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but you can't hold me forever, San."

"Yes, I can." I squeezed her body tighter against mine and pressed my lips to her skin. "I thought… I thought I was never going to get to hold you again. I'm going to hold onto you as long as I can."

_No one is ever going to hurt you again._

She turned her head to speak, but I caught her lips with mine and started kissing her. She let out a surprised squeak and spread her shaky fingers out across my lower back. I leaned forward, pushing her back against the pillows. The kiss was deep and desperate and completely inappropriate. She pulled away, resting her forehead against mine and taking a large, gasping breath. Her cheeks were flushed and she stared at me with wide eyes.

"You're supposed to help calm me down," she whispered.

"Sorry," I muttered. I hadn't meant to maul her.

A throat cleared behind me and I turned to see Figgins and Tina standing in the doorway. I stepped back and let Brittany sit up, but kept my arm loosely draped over her shoulders.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything," Figgins said as he and Tina entered the room. Brittany looked mortified.

Tina graciously didn't laugh, but she looked like she wanted to. "Just came to make sure Brittany was alright."

It was clear that Figgins and Tina wanted to talk to Brittany about what had happened, but I didn't want to go anywhere.

Figgins smiled kindly at her and introduced himself. "Hello, Brittany. My name is Dr. Rajesh Figgins."

"And I'm Dr. Tina Cohen-Chang. You're in the medical wing of our… temporary facility."

It was the same way I'd been introduced to them and all of the déjà vu was making me want to hurl.

Brittany's eyebrows shot up and she sat forward. "I know you. You're Santana's friend, the one that was at her apartment."

Tina blushed and fiddled with the pen on her clipboard. "Yeah, that's me."

"And now you're my doctor?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Tina nodded. "This totally isn't going to be awkward," she mumbled under her breath.

Figgins, completely oblivious to what was happening, plowed on with his speech. "Ms. Pierce, we'd like to speak with you about what happened to you the other day and how we've been treating your condition. We'll try our best to answer any questions that you may have-"

"Where's my dad?" Brittany asked suddenly.

I could tell that they hadn't expected that particular question, although it was a pretty logical thing to ask.

Tina approached the bed. "We haven't contacted your family yet, Brittany. We'll need to run some tests on you so we can make sure that it's safe for you to interact with them."

Brittany tilted her head to the side and looked at me. "Is it safe for _you_ to be here then? How did you even know where to find me?"

_Because I was at the mall with you._

"Because I was at the ma-"

I slapped my hand over my still-moving mouth, horrified at what had almost come out of it.

_What the fuck are you doing?!_

The three of them looked confused, but I was pretty sure none of them were more confused than I was. My lips were tingling like they were about to fall asleep.

"You were at the what?" Brittany asked.

My hand moved of its own free will and my mouth started going again.

"I said I was at the mahmmmmprrrhh!" This time, I slapped both hands over my mouth.

"Santana, are you feeling alright?" Figgins asked.

I nodded frantically, squeezing my palms over my mouth, which was still trying to force the word "mall" out of my body. My whole face was tingling and my hands felt heavier.

Tina, not fully understanding my plight but realizing I needed someone to cover for me, answered Brittany's question.

"I recognized you when you arrived at the facility," she said quickly. "I called Santana and she came as quickly as she could."

"You didn't call my dad, but you called Santana?" Brittany asked the doctors skeptically.

Figgins and Tina looked at each other for a second.

"Yes," Figgins said simply.

"Yes," Tina echoed.

My head shook itself "no."

_Hey! Cut that out!_

Fortunately, Brittany was still looking at Tina. By the time she turned my way, I'd moved my hands from my mouth to my jaw to stop my head from disagreeing with everyone else.

"It's not that I don't want you here," she said to me. "I just want to make sure my family knows I'm okay."

"The sooner we finish all of our testing, the faster we can get you back home," Figgins said, not actually addressing her concern.

Brittany seemed to buy his response and moved on to her next question. "What about Quinn? She was with me. Is she okay?"

"She's here, too," I blurted out.

If looks could kill, I would've dropped dead and Tina would've been on trial for murder.

"She is?" Brittany sat up straighter and the shaking in her body kicked up just a notch. "Where is she? Can I see her?"

"You'll be able to see her after we do the tests," Tina said evasively, glaring a shiny, sharp dagger right into the middle of my forehead.

"Everything's gonna be okay," I said, I gave her a reassuring squeeze with the arm that was still holding her. Our faces were close together, but I still caught the odd look she gave me and backed off a little.

"Sorry, I'm smothering you," I said dejectedly.

"It's just that… I keep thinking that… my head hurts."

"Brittany, do you remember what happened to you?" Figgins asked.

Brittany's brow furrowed and she closed her eyes. "Quinn was there and so was Rumplestilts- I mean, my coworker. I couldn't breathe and everything went dark… I don't know. My head hurts really badly."

"You'll feel better in a few days, I promise," Tina assured her.

"You and some others were exposed to a toxic chemical at the mall about three days ago," Figgins explained. "Do you remember seeing any 'blue smoke'?"

"Yeah, I remember Quinn breathing it in. And my coworker. It made them sick."

"That smoke is actually made up of tiny spores that affect the brain. In order to stop the spores from causing significant brain damage, we had to put you through a special chemical process. That's why you woke up inside that chamber."

"The process… well, you're going to feel a little different," Tina admitted. "There are some side effects."

"Like what?" Brittany asked.

"Brittany… there's no easy way to say this, but the process will give you some special abilities. Some might even call them 'super powers', but we try not to use terms like that here."

Brittany looked from me to Tina to Figgins. "Is this a practical joke? Am I being Punk'd?"

"Sadly, no. I'm sure you can feel that you're not quite the same as before. Right now there's a lot of energy flowing through you."

"Yeah, but… there's gotta be… it's not… super powers?" Brittany sputtered.

_Help her, you jerk!_

I licked my lips nervously. "It's true, Brittany. It's all true. You have powers like Kurt and those guys at the mall."

Tina gave me a look that clearly said it was time to come clean and add myself to that list.

_It's not time. I need more time._

"Listen, Dr. Fig Newton and Dr. Santana's friend, I appreciate you helping me and everything, but I really, really don't want super powers. So if you could just… I don't know, undo all the stuff you did, that would be great."

"It doesn't work like that, B," I said softly. "You have to keep doing the process. If you don't, those spores will wreck your brain."

Her face fell, breaking my heart in the process. "There's no other way?"

"Not at this time, no," Figgins said.

Brittany was quiet for a long time.

"What kind of super powers?" she asked finally.

Tina adjusted her clipboard. "We're going to run some tests, but I might as well ask you now. Do you feel anything unusual?"

Brittany shifted uncomfortably under my arm. "This headache? Is there anything I can take for it because I feel horrible."

Tina raised an eyebrow. "Can you describe this headache for me? Is it like a normal headache or are you having other issues?"

Brittany rubbed her temples and winced. "My brain is like, throbbing. It's like there's too much stuff going on in my head and I can't turn it off."

"What kind of stuff?"

She paused for a moment. "Everything looks kinda weird. It's like someone's been messing with the color on a TV. When I look around, there are like… these streaks of color everywhere. I just thought I was hopped up on pain killers, but it could be something else."

"Streaks?" Tina was writing furiously on a notepad. "Describe what you're seeing."

"Every time something moves, there's color trailing behind it. The air lights up. Some of the streaks don't go away, they just float up to the ceiling-" She winced again. "I don't know. They just make my head hurt."

_Holy crap, what have they done to her?_

"Where's the closest one?" Tina asked.

She started pointing at the corners of her nightstand. "They're all over the place. There's one right here, there's one right here, another one here."

"Can you touch one of them for me?"

Brittany paled visibly. "Touch them? I don't think I want to do that."

"Just go ahead and grab it and we'll see what happens."

"What if they're dangerous? They don't look safe."

I don't know what caused me to get angry. Maybe it was the hesitance in Brittany's voice or Tina's reassurance of something she knew nothing about.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, B," I said, squaring my shoulders and daring Tina to say something.

Tina, clearly unimpressed, rolled her eyes. "The lines are just in your head, Brittany. It's probably not going to hurt you if you touch one."

"Probably?" Brittany squeaked.

"Look, Tina," I snapped, "we get it. It's probably fine. But if she doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have to do it."

"If she doesn't follow our instructions, how are we supposed to help her and figure out what's going on?" Tina shot back.

"She will follow your instructions, so how about you wait until she's ready instead of trying to force her to do it?"

"It's okay, Santana. I can do it. I'll just, um…" Brittany lifted her hand and slowly moved it towards the little nightstand. She moved so slowly that she was probably going to have a birthday before she ever touched anything.

I grabbed her hand. "If you're scared, don't do it. Tina will survive."

Tina sighed. "Santana, you're really not helping."

"Sorry, but I'm not gonna let her be your lab rat."

"Let's all just calm down," Figgins said, gripping his clipboard nervously.

Brittany nodded in agreement and scooted over in her bed. "Here, Santana. Sit."

A slight tingling spread across the front of my head and the back of my knees. My right leg swung up like a bicycle's kickstand and my left leg just stopped supporting my body altogether. I fell to the floor, landing hard on my ass and swallowing a pained yelp.

Brittany leaned over the side of the bed and stared down at me. "Santana! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Perfectly fine. Shamefully embarrassed, but fine."

"I meant sit down on the bed," she said.

"I-I knew that," I chuckled stupidly. I scrambled to my feet and sat in the space next to her.

Tina walked to my side of the bed and in the entitled-doctor kind of way, she put her hand on my forehead.

"Why are you acting so weird?" she asked. She lifted my chin slightly and started feeling my glands or nodes or whatever is around your throat that doctors always like to prod at.

I swatted her hands away from my neck. "I'm not acting weird."

Even Figgins wasn't buying that. "You have been acting a little strangely today. You just collapsed without for no apparent reason. Are you dizzy? Sick?"

"I'm fine," I insisted. "I'm perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with me."

I turned to Brittany to plead my case. Her clear blue eyes locked with mine like she was peering into my soul.

"Santana, are you sure you're alright?" she asked.

_Yes. I'm fine._

"No," I said confidently. "My body is rebelling against me in interesting and ridiculous ways. Also, you have the most beautiful lips in the history of mouths."

_So… that's not the line._

Brittany blushed deeply and fixed her eyes onto the bed sheet. "Um, thanks, San."

I bit my bottom lip hard. It was tingling something fierce.

"Your body is rebelling against you?" Tina asked.

I shook my head. "Nope, not at all."

"You just said that," she protested.

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"It's a figure of speech, Tina," I laughed weakly.

"But you said it," Brittany said.

"Yes, I did," I agreed.

I slapped my hand over my mouth again.

Tina looked between me and Brittany, eyes narrowed. "So you'll admit it to her but not to me, even though I'm standing right here listening?"

I shrugged. "At this point, whatever words make it out of my mouth first are what you're gonna hear."

Figgins' eyes were darting between the three of us. "Santana, will you do me a favor? Leave the room until I call you back in."

"Whatever," I muttered. I didn't know what the goal of this game was, but it couldn't be any worse than making a fool of myself.

As I got up, Figgins moved to the head of the bed and started whispering to Brittany. She listened closely as he spoke, watching me intently as I walked to the door. As soon as I reached it, a tingle shot up my arm. I turned the knob and opened the door.

And immediately slammed it closed in my own face.

My feet moved of their own accord, changing my direction and walking me backwards all the way to the center of the room and stopping there. It felt like they'd gone numb. It was probably one of the scariest moments of my life.

I turned my head, since I couldn't seem to turn my body around. "What. The hell. Just happened."

"Ladies, I believe the McKinley Project has just gained its first mentokinetic member," Figgins beamed.

"Mentokinetic?" I hadn't been so afraid to hear the definition of a word since I had to spell "homogeneous" in a spelling bee at school.

"Mind control," he said simply.

"Mind control?" Brittany shrieked. "I'm not controlling anyone's mind! I wasn't doing anything!"

"Well normally, it would probably require a lot of focus to make someone follow your commands. Right now you have so much energy running through you, it's 'spilling out,' if you will. You would probably only need to vaguely want something for the ability to activate."

"Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," I hissed.

_She's controlling your mind she's controlling your mind SHE'S CONTROLLING YOUR FUCKING MIND._

I stumbled backwards and Brittany cringed. "I didn't make you do that, did I?"

"You're asking-" I snorted, which turned into a full-on laughing fit. "You're asking me if you made me trip. Because you can control my mind."

I stumbled backwards again. My head was starting to feel fuzzy and my legs were weak.

"Santana?" Brittany's voice sounded far away, like it was coming out of a tin can.

_Now she's going to know. She can make you tell the truth. She's going to find out EVERYTHING, SHE'S GOING TO KNOW-_

"BEN!" Tina yelled.

A split second later, the fastest man alive stuck his head in the doorway.

"You rang?" he called.

"Yeah. Catch her."

The last thing I heard before I passed out was Figgins whispering, "Fascinating. Simply fascinating."

* * *

><p>After I woke up, Himanshu and Figgins took me to the recreation room. McKinley rec rooms weren't super fancy. There were a couple of armchairs, a couch, an entertainment center with an Xbox, and a card table. I was left there for an hour to get my shit together so I wouldn't upset Brittany. It was the longest hour of my life. Brittany was alone in a strange place with strange people and strange powers. I wanted to go to her, but I knew I needed to calm down first.<p>

Fortunately in my absence, Tina was there to tell Brittany everything she needed to know. She told her the basics about McKinley, the parts about researching a cure-all chemical and using it on wounded soldiers. She didn't mention the "odd jobs" they took to pay for things or the fact that they were facing a Goo shortage. She conveniently left out the parts about Artie, Jacob, and Kurt. And when Brittany started asking questions about what exactly had gone down at the mall, Figgins announced that it was suddenly time to do a bunch of tests that couldn't wait another second. I was finally freed from timeout and allowed to rejoin the group. I sat in a chair next to Brittany's as they prepped her for the test.

"The purpose of these tests is so that we'll have some idea of what your abilities are," Tina explained as she helped Brittany put on some weird helmet covered in electrodes. There were more electrodes stuck to her body underneath her clothes with wires running into a machine.

We were sitting in Himanshu's special work area. It was a little crowded in his workspace. One of his giant robots was in pieces on the floor, along with David's boots that needed to be retreaded. Off to the side, in an area roped off with caution tape, was the broken collar from Finntastic's super suit.

_They must have taken it from my pocket after I passed out at the mall._

I wanted to ask Himanshu what the deal was with that thing since it had caused us so much trouble, but I couldn't do it in front of Brittany. "Santana" shouldn't have even known what that thing was.

"We're ready to rock and roll," Himanshu announced, typing a few things on his keyboard. He brought up an outline of a human body on his screen.

Tina sat down across from us and smiled. "Okay, Brittany. Do you still feel the energy?"

"Yeah, I can't feel anything else," Brittany said, looking at her shaking hands.

"What I want you to do is focus on that feeling. Don't try to do anything specific with it. Just focus on the energy and let it build as much as you can."

The test was called a Body Scan. It mapped the natural movement of energy in the body of a person who had been Juiced or SNIX'd. The idea was that you could tell the nature of someone's abilities by observing where energy moves. The guys did a Body Scan after each Juicing to make sure everything was normal. I'd done one once. I accidentally melted the electrodes on my hands and ended up smelling like burnt plastic for three days.

Brittany closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Okay. Here we go."

"You got this, B," I whispered, "just relax."

She let her shoulders drop and let her head fall forward. A few seconds later, some fancy science words popped up on the Body Scan screen and the outline of the human body began to turn green in different areas. Brittany started to squirm in her seat.

"Try to sit as still as possible," Tina instructed as she scribbled down the readings from the screen. "Can you tell me what you're feeling?"

Brittany gripped the arms of the chair tightly, trying to stop her already-shaky limbs from squirming. "Everything feels light. It's like everything is made of air. Or like… like I'm air. I don't know, it's making my head hurt again."

The body outline turned green in all the places where energy was building. Her entire body had trails of pale green flowing here and there, but her head and her hands were dark, dark green. Most of the energy was gravitating to Brittany's brain, whether she wanted it there or not.

"Are you still seeing the colors?" Tina asked.

"Yeah, I can still see the colors. Everything's just floating around."

"Ok," she said calmly, giving me a cautious glance. "If you feel up to it and you're completely comfortable, I'd like for you to try to touch one of those streaks."

Brittany nodded and raised her hand. She extended her index finger and gently moved it through the air until it stopped at some object that was invisible to everyone else in the room.

"This one is small," she said quietly, "and it's not very bright. Figgins made it when he left the room and it's faded, but it's still here."

She moved her finger back and forth. To my relief, nothing happened.

Tina smiled. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Brittany returned her smile, opening her palm to touch more of the invisible streak. "It feels cool, San. Can you see it?"

I shook my head.

"I wish you could see it. It's tan with red swirls."

Himanshu rolled his chair over. "Sounds trippy."

Brittany lowered her hand and gestured around him. "Look! You're making more streaks right now. Come here!"

"I am?" Himanshu rolled closer and leaned forward. "What do they look like?"

"They're dark green and black. Reminds me of the Matrix. There's a big one coming from your shoulder."

"That's _so_ cool!" he gushed. "Touch one!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, go for it!"

"Ok. These are warm, I can feel them from here." She moved her hand forward, but before she got anywhere near Himanshu, his shoulder jerked backwards like he'd been punched.

"Ow!" He grabbed his shoulder and leaned back in shock.

Brittany held her hands up in front of her. "I didn't even touch it yet!"

"Well, I feel touched," Himanshu said, rubbing his shoulder.

"I swear I didn't do that on purpose," Brittany claimed, turning to Tina.

"I believe you," Tina chuckled. "Try again, but this time, be more aware of the energy _you're_ putting out."

Brittany put her hands up in front of her and stretched them towards Himanshu.

"I'm touching the ones on your knees," she said shakily. "Don't move."

Himanshu gulped. "Okay."

She closed her hands around what I assume were Himanshu's knee streaks and very, very slowly, his rolly chair started to move away from us.

"Holy crap, holy crap!" He clutched the arm rests for dear life as the chair inched backward.

"Holy crap is right," Tina muttered. Her pen rested limply in her hand. She was too busy watching the sight before her to write.

"You're moving him, Britt," I whispered, awestruck.

"I am." Her voice was shaky, but her hands were the steadiest they'd been since she woke up. "I'm moving him. Holy _crap_."

"Holy crap," I agreed.

She turned her hands slightly and closed them just a little, like she was gripping the reins of horse. She pulled them toward her and Himanshu's chair started rolling back towards us. She changed the orientation of her hands and the chair drifted to the side a bit.

"Oh! I can turn you if I just… ok, there!"

As she tilted her hands in either direction, the chair changed course. She maneuvered him around a table.

Tina hopped up from her seat. "This is amazing! Figgins has got to see this. I'll be right back!"

She ran out of the room, her lab coat flapping in the wind behind her.

"How do you know what to do?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't. It just feels right. I just have to pull-"

"Faster!" Himanshu ordered, finally trusting Brittany's driving enough to let go of the armrests.

"This isn't the fucking Merry-Go-Round," I snapped.

Brittany moved her hands again. The chair picked up speed and changed direction.

"Whee!" Himanshu threw his hands in the air.

Brittany started to laugh, but the sound was cut off by a gasp. Her face twitched and her hands fell to her sides.

"What's wrong, Britt?" I put my hand on her shoulder, but she didn't respond. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes looked glazed. "You okay?"

Himanshu, who was now being driven by no one, whizzed past us.

"Brittany?" he called over his shoulder as he quickly approached a wall. "Um, Brittany? Brittany! Stop the chair! Stop the-"

He slammed into the wall backwards, but no one was really paying much attention.

"Brittany," I turned towards her in my chair and grabbed both of her shoulders lightly, "hey, Brittany!"

Her eyes drifted to mine and closed halfway. She blinked, trying to focus, but couldn't.

"_God_, that feels good," she murmured.

_Well, _that_ was inappropriate._

My eyes widened and I released her shoulders. "It's not me."

Brittany stifled a gasp and closed her eyes completely. "It's not… oh god- it's not you. It's my head. It's… mmmph."

The noises she made weren't exactly sexual. They would've been appropriate for someone eating a delicious meal or getting a massage. Brittany was doing neither of those things and somehow, I just knew she was feeling it _that_ way.

"What about your head?" I asked frantically.

"It's all fuh-" she clamped her lips together and exhaled quickly through her nose. "It's all fuzzy. Oh my god. All of this energy just rushed to my brain and it feels really, really good."

Brittany's hands were sliding aimlessly over her thighs. Himanshu, who had recovered from his accident, hovered nearby. "This is like one of those Herbal Essences commercials."

"Don't look over here!" I yelled.

Brittany's hands slid up to her head. "The energy. It feels different, like it's not mine. It's coming from somewhere else. I don't know where, but I need it- umph… I need it to stop. I can't do anything like this!"

"Just turn the extra energy off, see what happens," Himanshu said.

Brittany stilled momentarily, considering his suggestion. "Just turn it off? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He shrugged. "I'm no doctor, but when a machine is bothering me, I turn it off."

"You're right, you're not a doctor," I pointed out. "Let's wait for real doctors to come in here and tell us what to do."

Brittany hadn't been taught how to power down properly and from what Tina said, she would have too much energy running through her to even try. It seemed like an exercise in futility. Besides, I'd always been taught to power down slowly, not just "turn it off."

"Ok, maybe you shouldn't turn it off," Himanshu said, "but you can try to push it back to wherever it came from."

"I'll give it a shot." Brittany settled into her chair and closed her eyes. "Hold on… just a sec… ok, I just-"

For the first time since she woke up, Brittany stopped shaking. Her eyes closed and she became completely unresponsive. There was a loud bang and someone screamed.

"Brittany!" I dropped to my knees in front of her chair, ripping the stupid electrode helmet off and grabbing her hands. "Brittany, are you okay? Can you hear me? Brittany!"

She didn't respond. Another loud bang and another scream came from behind me and I jerked my head towards the noise. It was coming from the back of the warehouse.

"What the hell is that?" I whispered. "Baby Figgins, go check."

Another bang, another scream.

Himanshu snorted. "Are you crazy? I'm not going back there! You do it! You can defend yourself better than I can."

I stood up quickly. "Watch her. Please."

Himanshu nodded as I ran off towards the back of the warehouse. I rounded a corner and went down the hall where the bedrooms were located. It took me a second to recognize the frightened yelps, but when I realized they were coming from Puck, I ran to his door and kicked it open with my hands charged and ready.

I was not ready for the fuckery that was occurring in that room.

Puck was screaming his head off as his naked, sweaty body repeatedly slammed itself into the wall.

"SANTANA! HELP ME!" He ran back to the center of his room and then sprinted towards the wall again, smashing himself into it at full speed.

"Oh god! Why are you naked?" I screeched, slapping my hands over my eyes.

"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! NOW HELP ME! I CAN'T STOP!"

"I'm blind! I'm blind!"

"STOP FUCKING AROUND AND HELP ME!"

He ran back to the center of the room again and I jumped between him and the wall to block his path. As he ran toward me, his eyes flashed bright blue like they had at the mall.

_His mind. Brittany's controlling him!_

He lowered his head and charged at me like a bull.

_Uh oh! Fuck this!_

I jumped out of the way and let him slam into the wall.

"OW!" He grabbed his head with both hands even as he backed up for another go. "Why would you let me do that?"

"No sense in both of us getting hurt. Besides, I think I know what's wrong with you. I'll be right back!"

I ran back down the hall and back to Himanshu's work area, powering down as I went. Tina had reappeared without Figgins. Himanshu looked at me expectantly, but I ignored him and went straight to Brittany. She was still in her trance-like state, her muscles and joints locked in place. I sat on my haunches, rubbing my hands up and down Brittany's arms, willing her to come out of whatever spell she was under.

"Brittany? You've got to stop. You're hurting Puck. Wherever you are, just come back. Follow the sound of my voice, okay? I'm here. I'll always be right here."

It wasn't working. I stood up and took her face into my hands.

"Come on, baby," I whispered. "Come back to me."

As soon as my lips touched hers, her hands flew up, clutching my wrists tightly. The banging stopped and there was a loud crash. I tried to pull back, but Brittany leaned forward, nipping roughly at my bottom lip. She pulled me forward as she leaned back in her seat and I landed in her lap. Her kisses were rough and forceful. My reaction was instantaneous.

_8._

I didn't know what level Brittany was charged to, but the amount of energy flowing through her body must have triggered something in mine. I was way too charged up. Energy flooded my system from the tip of my head to the soles of my feet and everything felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. I could feel it surging through me. The burning in my palms snapped me out of it.

_STOP._

I yanked my hands away from Brittany's face and fell out of her lap onto the floor, breathing hard. I closed my eyes and did the slowest, most deliberate power-down I've ever done, counting backwards at the speed of a toddler. When I opened my eyes, Brittany was staring down at me, wide-eyed and still panting.

A few seconds later, Puck stumbled into the room in his boxers and a t-shirt.

"What the fuck just happened?" His voice cracked like a prepubescent boy and he looked confused and upset.

"I have no idea, but it. Was. EPIC." Himanshu grinned. He caught the evil eye I was giving him and wisely shut his mouth.

"I was in my room and the next thing I know, I'm being thrown around like a rag doll!"

I sat up slowly from the floor. "I think I know what happened. I don't really understand why, but I think Brittany was somehow controlling Puck's mind. His eyes were flashing blue. I think that's a good indicator that those spores were at work here."

Brittany, who was still a little dazed, looked horrified. She started pulling electrodes off her body as fast as she could.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I didn't mean to! I just wanted the energy in my brain to stop!"

"The what in your what?" Puck asked.

"Somebody was flooding her brain with some kind of crazy sex energy," I said accusatorily. "She tried to push it back to where it came from and coincidentally, you lost your damn mind."

Puck immediately turned beet red. "Don't look at me. I wasn't having sex. I was just sitting in my room… reading a book."

"Puck, you don't read," Tina said skeptically.

"And why would you get naked just to read a book?" I asked.

Tina smirked. "You were naked?"

"It's not against the law to read naked," Puck said defensively.

Himanshu burst out laughing. "What were you reading, 'The Autobiography of Palmela Handerson'? Admit it, Puck. You were back there whacking your weasel-"

"It's none of your business what I was doing!" He pointed at Brittany. "And _you_! Stay out of my brain! It's private! You have no right to-"

_3._

I was off the ground in seconds, standing in front of Puck. "Who are _you_ yelling at like that?"

Brittany was behind me so she couldn't see my glowing eyes or the murderous expression on my face.

"Hey, calm down, time bomb," Puck said, taking a step back.

Before I could make another move, Tina slid between us and decided to take over.

"How dare you get mad at Brittany about this!" she shouted, poking Puck in the chest. "She doesn't know how to control her energy yet and you have the nerve to give her a hard time about it? You're not even hurt, you big baby. Stop being an asshole and try to help her the way everyone helped you when you started Juicing!"

Puck dropped her gaze and looked down at his feet, embarrassed. Tina must have whispered something else to him because he nodded and walked over to Brittany.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. I get it. I've been Juicing so long that I forget how hard it is in the beginning. I still don't know my own strength sometimes and it's been years. Everyone here will help you figure it out." He stuck his hand out. "We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Noah, but you can call me Puck."

Brittany just looked at his hand awkwardly. "Um…"

Puck's face reddened again and he pulled his unwashed hand back. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

"It's nice to meet you, Puck," she said, trying to make the encounter less awkward. "I'm Brittany."

He smiled. "Don't worry. Juicing is hard, but the first one's the worst one. The more you practice your abilities, the easier things will get."

She nodded and returned his smile, but I could tell she was still upset by the whole situation.

Figgins strode in a few seconds later. That man had the uncanny ability to not enter a room until all foolishness had ceased. "Sorry, I had a time-sensitive experiment running. How did our Body Scan go?"

Tina pointed to the body outline on the screen. "Her natural energy flow is pretty much what we expected. About seventy-five percent of the energy goes straight to her brain and the rest flows pretty freely, although I am seeing a high concentration of it in her hands. We'll keep an eye on that."

Tina scanned through her notes quickly. "Outwardly, Brittany's shown some mind control ability, but it seems rather limited since she's only been able to control Santana and Puck's minds so far."

Puck scratched his head. "But what about that whole energy thing? I passed it to her brain and she passed it back to me. What the hell is that all about?"

"I think Santana was right. It might all be connected to the spores. It seems like they give her some sort of 'extra access' to your brain."

"But that doesn't make sense. Santana doesn't have any spores in her head," Brittany said.

Tina's jaw clenched. "Oh, you're right. Santana doesn't have any spores in her head because she was never at the mall. She was at home, knitting a scarf. How could I have forgotten?"

I could tell she didn't like lying for me, especially since it was making her look like a bad scientist.

"What else did you observe during the testing?" Figgins asked, steering the conversation back on track.

"Oh, right. Brittany's shown signs of extremely advanced psychokinetic abilities."

"Psychokinetic? I'm not crazy," Brittany protested.

"Psychokinesis just means that you can manipulate things with your mind. I'm not sure what the extent of your ability is at this point, but we can narrow it down further with more testing."

Brittany's face fell. "More testing?"

"Let's call it a day, Tina," I suggested. "I'm sure this has been the longest day of Brittany's life."

"Of course," Tina agreed. "We can pick it up again tomorrow."

* * *

><p>As an apology for yelling at and mentally sexing Brittany, Chef Puckerman made dinner for everyone. I don't know what it was supposed to be, but it was swimming in grease and served with a side of undercooked rice and overcooked broccoli. Brittany ate very little because her appetite was shot, so she made polite small talk with Puck, Figgins, and Tina. Himanshu was still glued to his computers. Ben hadn't been seen since morning.<p>

After dinner, Brittany and I retired to David's room. He was still in his hospital bed, hooked up to life support machines, so Figgins told us we could stay there. No one seemed to be particularly worried about him, so I tried not to be, either.

As soon as I hopped into bed, I felt a wave of sleepiness crash over me. It had been a long day and I knew if I was tired, Brittany would be exhausted even if she couldn't sleep. She slid into to the bed and burrowed under the covers, letting out a giant sigh as she settled in behind me. A few seconds later, a shaky hand tentatively made its way to my hip and rested there.

"Do you think we could… I want to cuddle, but I'm too shaky."

"No, you're not." I turned around and slid my arms around her, bringing her as close to me as physically possible. "See? Not too shaky at all."

She hummed in agreement and burrowed her face into my neck. "I'm so tired, but I don't think I can go to sleep."

"I'm sorry, Britt." I hugged her tighter. "I'm sorry that all of this is happening to you. You don't deserve it."

She sighed. "It's not always about what we deserve, you know? Things just happen in life and you have to keep going."

"Well, no one should have to feel Puck's _lust_," I shuddered in revulsion, "or see his junk, for that matter."

"I hated invading his privacy like that. He was having a private moment with himself and I assaulted him."

"You can't help it. It's not your fault that he mentally broadcasted his hot date with Palmela."

"I just feel bad about it. I don't want to control his mind, or your mind either. Even if I'm not doing it on purpose, it's wrong. I wish I could turn these stupid powers off, but I can't."

"And everyone understands that," I said. "Puck went through the same thing you did. Give it some time and before you know it, you'll probably be driving with no hands."

She laughed bitterly. "Great, I'll still be a freak, but at least I'll be a freak that can control herself."

"You are _not_ a freak," I whispered fervently. "Don't say that about yourself."

I felt her frown against my neck. "It's true. I mean, there's only six other people in the world like me and three of them tried to kidnap me. I was already different enough. Now look at me."

She sniffled and tightened her arms around me. The feeling of tears dripping onto my skin sent the words flying out of my mouth before I even knew what I was saying.

"Not six."

Brittany turned her head slightly. "What?"

I hesitated, thinking hard about what I was going to do.

_You can take it back and pretend you didn't say anything like a coward or you can put on your big girl panties and be there for Brittany so that she doesn't feel like a lonely freak. Your choice._

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard before I spoke again.

"Not six,'" I repeated.

Brittany slowly lifted her head from my neck. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at me. "I counted six."

My heart was going a million miles an hour and my mouth was suddenly drier than it had ever been. I had to close my eyes because from that close, it looked like her piercing blue eyes could see right through me.

"The three guys here," she said, thinking aloud. "The three guys from the mall. Six."

Somehow, she got even closer and I could feel her breath on the side of my face as she spoke. "Are there more people, San?"

"I… um… I mean... we, uh…"

The momentary burst of courage/stupidity had passed and now I was sitting there at the beginning of a confession with none of the will to complete it. I looked up so that I was staring right into her eyes. They flashed bright blue, but not her natural shade. This was Wes's creepy blue light. The back of my head started to tingle.

"Brittany, don't," I warned. I closed my eyes and shook my head, but it didn't do anything to stop the tingling.

She gasped and put some space between us. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't even know I was doing it."

"It's okay. I just… I want to tell you this on my own."

"Tell me what?"

"There's… there's someone else."

Brittany looked stricken and I feared the worst until I realized what I just said.

"No, no, not like that!" I corrected. "I mean there's another person with special abilities like you."

Her face lit up. "There is? I mean, it's just one person, but still. Who is it?"

The tingling in my head intensified and I could feel my lips becoming numb. Brittany really wanted to know and it looked like I was going to confess whether I wanted to or not.

"It's me."

I choked it out so violently, she probably thought I was coughing. It probably didn't even sound like words, but by the look on her face and the way her mouth opened slightly, I knew she'd understood.

She blinked. Blinked. Blinked.

"You?" She leaned over me, carefully examining my face as if all the answers would be written there. "…you?"

I nodded, biting my lip and waiting for her reaction.

"That's why you're here?" she asked.

"Yeah. The guys that were tearing up the mall? Those were the same ones who kidnapped me."

"I know," she said. "The gay man in the purple suit."

"Right. Well, those guys have some beef with the people here and to make a long story short, I fell into some green goop and now I have special abilities like you."

I closed my eyes, waiting for the sky to fall on my head.

"Santana, why wouldn't you tell me that?" She didn't sound angry. She sounded confused and surprised, but not angry. I was afraid to open my eyes and verify that her expression matched her tone.

"At first, I was just afraid that you would be creeped out. Then things got a little… complicated."

"How?"

I sighed. "Brittany, promise me you won't be upset."

"Why? What did you do?" she asked, eyeing me warily.

I hesitated, but there was no more time left. It was the end of the road.

"I'm… I'm Rumplestiltskin," I said, staring straight into her eyes.

The confusion on her face was apparent for all of three seconds before her expression turned into something completely unreadable.

"No you're not," she said flatly. She pulled herself into a sitting position with her back against the headboard, shaking her head. "You're _not_ Rumplestiltskin. You can't be."

I stared up at her from the pillow, but she didn't look at me. She stared at the wall across the room. I let myself charge up a little, just enough so that my eyes would glow.

_3._

The light shining out of my eyes got her attention and she looked down at me. She locked eyes with me, staring straight into the white-hot brightness. After a moment of silence, she frowned deeply and looked back at the wall.

"Brittany-"

She shook her head. "Don't."

"Please, just let me explain," I begged.

Her blank expression broke and was replaced with one of barely contained anger.

"Explain what?" she fumed. "That you've been lying to me this whole time?"

"It hasn't really been that long when you think about it," I said because I'm a moron.

Her nostrils flared and she narrowed her eyes at me.

_Yeah, because that's a valid point._

Her eyes flickered to my forehead like she was staring at the thoughts in my brain. She let her head fall back against the headboard and gazed up at the ceiling.

"I'm such an idiot," she mumbled under her breath.

"You're not an idiot," I said quickly.

"Really? I wasn't smart enough to figure out what was going on, so that would make me an idiot."

"That's not true." I sighed and sat up next to her. "It's been what, ten days since the mugging? Only one person managed to figure it out in that time."

"Well, Mercedes is way smarter than I am."

"She doesn't... I… I haven't told her yet," I stammered.

Brittany seemed completely shocked at my admission and I could practically see her opinion of me plummeting off of a cliff.

"Mercedes doesn't even know? What were you gonna do, take it to your grave?" she asked in disbelief.

"I couldn't tell anyone. I just… I-"

"You could've told me. You just didn't want to." The disappointment in her tone was killing me, but at the same time, it was pissing me off. She made it sound so simple when it had felt like the most impossible thing in the world.

"What the hell was I supposed to say?" I snapped defensively. "'Yo B, I've got crazy dangerous powers and I could accidentally kill you. FYI, Finntastic is a liar and_ I_ saved you from the muggers. Also, you know that masked loser you hate? It's actually me in a hoody.'"

She didn't even crack a smile. "Yes, that's exactly what you should've said. I get that you didn't want anyone to know about your powers, but you should have told me about the mugging. I've had so many nightmares about that night and after we ran that 'Menace' article, I started having nightmares about 'Rumplestiltskin,' too. Don't you think it would've been nice to know that the person I was so afraid of was actually _you_ in disguise? Don't you think I would've been way less mean to you when we worked together? I was giving myself an ulcer worrying about whether or not you would turn on us! I was up all night trying to figure out what your real intentions were. And this whole time it was _you_. Jesus, San. All of this anxiety I've been going through was for nothing. And you knew that the whole time."

I felt like the world's biggest ass.

"I didn't think about that," I said quietly.

"Yeah, you didn't," she snapped.

"Things have been so out of control lately. I was trying to protect you from all the craziness. I never would've dragged you into this whole thing with the cops if Shelby hadn't insisted on it."

"So why didn't you tell me after we started working together?"

"I was afraid," I said honestly. "I thought you were going to freak out and run away."

Brittany's face fell and her eyes dropped to her lap.

"You really think I would do that?" she asked almost inaudibly.

I sighed. "Even without all of this super power stuff, I always feel like you're two seconds away from running in the opposite direction. I have so many strikes against me already just by being a girl. I didn't want to give you another reason to push me away. Telling you that I was Rumplestiltskin, that I had super powers… I thought it would be too much."

A single tear ran down Brittany's cheek.

I reached out to touch the hand that was resting on her thigh, but she moved it out of my reach.

"Brittany-"

"I wouldn't have run away from you because you accidentally got super powers. I would've wanted to be there for you."

"I-"

"And I wouldn't have run away from you because you saved me. I would've thanked you.

"Don't cry, Britt."

"I know I have issues with _us_ and with my family, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't have tried to be a good friend to you. You were going through a hard time and you needed someone, but you couldn't open up to me because all you're ever going to remember are the times when I pushed you away."

She wiped her face with the back of her hand and shook her head.

"I don't know how to make you trust me," she whispered.

I tried to wrap my arms around her, but she held her hands up. I grabbed both of them in mine and clasped them together in front of me.

"I'm so sorry for lying to you, Brittany. I was scared. I should have told you the truth."

It occurred to me that there was still another gigantic secret I hadn't revealed. If I didn't tell the truth about it now, it was going to be a thousand times worse when she found out.

"Britt… there's something else."

* * *

><p>The only sound that filled Quinn's room was the quiet beeping of the life support machines. Brittany sat in a chair next to Quinn's bed. In the entire half hour that we'd been in the room, she hadn't said a word. When she finally spoke, her voice was flat and tired, as lifeless as the girl in the bed next to her.<p>

"Why didn't they do the same thing to her that they did to me?" she asked. "Why didn't they help her?"

Explaining to Brittany why her friend was basically dead was the last thing I wanted to do.

"By the time you got here, it was too late. The procedure is too dangerous to try right now. They're working on finding another way to help her."

"What if they don't find another way? Will she stay like this forever?"

My silence wasn't the answer she was looking for.

She stood up suddenly, turning her back to me and directing her words at Quinn so that she wouldn't have to look at me. "I want to go home. I want to leave and take Quinn with me. Today."

I walked closer to the bed. "You can't do that, Britt."

"Why not?" she demanded. "They can't keep me here against my will."

"I know, but you can't just go home and pretend like everything's normal. Your body has to get used to Juicing. You have to learn how to power down. Figgins and Tina are doing everything they can to help Quinn. There's no hospital in the world that's going to be able to treat her. You can't leave."

"I can't just stay here without telling my family that I'm okay and that Quinn's-" her face crumpled, "-that Quinn's gonna be okay soon. If I can't leave, they have to come here."

"I don't know if that's possible."

"You need to go home, too. Don't you care that Mercedes is at home worried sick about you?"

I felt guilty because I'd been so worried about Brittany that I hadn't even realized that once again, I'd dropped off the face of the earth.

"Of course I care, but nothing good can come from getting our families involved in this. Just give it a few days and-"

"Santana, I can't be missing!" she blurted out. She sat back down in her chair, looking almost as surprised by her outburst as I was. She took a deep breath and let it out, slumping wearily against the back of her chair before speaking again. "My… my mom went missing."

It was the last thing I expected her to say and I had no idea how to react. Brittany never talked about her birth mom. She reached out, holding Quinn's limp hand in both of hers, but she was shaking so hard that she had to let Quinn's hand go.

"They found her car in Dayton, all burned out. They never found her." She patted Quinn's arm softly. "My family is fragile, Santana. When things get hard, they fall apart so fast. I can't do this to them. I can't let them think we're missing or dead when we're not. We've been gone too long already."

_That's why Brittany got so involved when you disappeared. That's why Mo talked about you on his radio show._

She let out that bitter laugh again, the one that sounded so foreign coming from her mouth. "There I go again, telling you everything."

I walked over and knelt next to her chair. I grabbed her hands and brought them to my lips. The shaking subsided slightly.

"You can tell me anything," I said and before she could protest, I added, "and I'll tell you anything. Everything. The truth."

She sniffled and looked away from my pleading gaze. "Get up, Santana."

"Brittany, please. I wanna make this right."

"Get off your knees, Santana," she ordered. "Seriously. Don't do that."

"I just want you to know that I'm serious about this," I said.

Brittany stood and pushed her chair away with her foot. A tingle spread through my lower body as Brittany mentally forced me to my feet. For some reason, she felt taller when we were standing face to face than she had when I was on the floor.

She gripped my chin lightly, making sure she had my full attention. "I don't need you to beg me for forgiveness. I'm not that person. You apologized. I get it. So don't do that."

I was a little confused by her reaction at first, but it started to make sense. Brittany was probably used to apologizing for things just to keep the peace, even when things weren't her fault. It seemed like she was making it a point to not treat me that way, even though I felt I deserved it. It made me feel even worse.

Brittany seemed to be deep in thought, stroking my chin absently with her thumb. "So where do we go from here? How are you going to be here for me when we don't trust each other?"

"Britt, I trust you," I insisted.

"Not enough to tell me the truth." I opened my mouth to argue, but she held up her finger. "You can say that you trust me, but you don't act like it. And I can't honestly say that I trust you right now, either."

I nodded. "I get that. Really, I do. That's not gonna change the fact that I care and that I don't want to see you hurting. I want to be a good friend to you, the way you would've been to me if I had been smart enough to let you. I can be that, even if it means, we're not… what we were. Even if I'm just a friend who knows you have super powers."

"Friends are people that I trust."

_Ouch._

It hurt and I deserved it.

"Then demote me from 'friend' to 'bartender.' Vent to me when you need to, if that's what you want. I just want to help."

A pained expression crossed her face. "You were never just 'the bartender' to me, San. Even when I met you, I always felt like I could trust you. Like it was okay to tell you things that I couldn't tell Tommy or Quinn or Rachel. You make it sound like it could've been anyone, but it couldn't have been Mike or Sunshine or Aphasia. It was you. It was always you."

She pressed her lips together as if she was physically restraining herself from continuing. My stomach was tied up in knots and I felt sick. I'd disappointed Brittany so badly and I didn't know what to do.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry, Brittany. If I could go back in time, I would've told you right after the mugging. I can't change things now, but I want to fix what I've broken. Your trust. If you'll let me."

"What do you want me to say?" she huffed. "I feel like I don't even know you right now. The girl I trusted more than anything and some guy I didn't trust at all are the same person. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"I don't even have room in my head to think about this. It feels like my mind is racing every second of the day. I don't have room in my head for even one more thought, so everything just feels really overwhelming. I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I can't stop _shaking_."

The frustration and aggravation were written clearly across her face. I didn't have any idea how Juicing was for a first timer. From what I was seeing, it put a lot of stress on the mind as well as the body.

"So I really do need a friend right now," she said, "because this way too much to handle."

My head snapped up and I suppressed the urge to grin like an idiot. She watched my face carefully before continuing.

"We can work on trust. We _will_ work on trust. But I swear, if you ever lie to me again, Santana-"

"Never," I promised. "Never again. I swear. I know that means nothing to you right now, but I swear on Mr. Ziggles."

Excited that I was getting a chance at redemption, I tilted my head up to kiss her. She turned away at the last minute and my lips landed on her cheek instead.

_Denied!_

Slightly Embarrassed by the rejection but undeterred, I gave her the most heartfelt cheek kiss that I could.

"I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back," I whispered. "Whatever it takes. I promise."

When I pulled away, she looked a little dazed. Her face was flushed and she was gripping her chair with both hands. The palms of my hands started to tingle slightly, but Brittany gritted her teeth and closed her eyes momentarily and the tingling stopped.

"I'm gonna talk to Figgins about your family tomorrow. I'm sure there's something he can do," I announced, standing up straight. "Did you want to… I mean, are you coming back to bed?"

She shook her head and turned her chair towards Quinn, breathing deeply through her nose. "No, I think I'm gonna just stay in here tonight. I can't sleep anyway. Too wired."

I returned to David's room alone and fell into bed. Part of me felt relieved, like a giant weight had been lifted off my shoulders because now there no more secrets between us. The other part of me was scared to death.

_What if Brittany never trusts me again? What if she resents me for all of this?_

The tingling in my palms returned and I sat up in bed, unsure of what to do. It was obvious Brittany wanted me to do something, but I had no idea what. The feeling ebbed and flowed throughout the night and I focused on it, thinking of anything that Brittany could need from me. I got my answer shortly before dawn when my arms reached out and encircled the air in front of me in a tight hug.

* * *

><p>Things were awkward the next morning at breakfast.<p>

Brittany and I were the first ones at the table. We sat in strained silence while Baby Figgins made breakfast, whistling while he worked.

"How are you today?" I asked nervously.

Brittany gave me one of those deep, soul-inspecting stares before saying, "Fine."

_Bullshit. She spent the night in a chair next to her comatose best friend's bed. "Fine" probably isn't the right word._

"You can tell me if you're not, you know."

"I know," she said simply.

And that was the end of that. I could tell that getting Brittany to open up to me again was going to be a challenge.

People started filing in to the kitchen one by one. I'd made sure to tell them after my talk with Figgins that Brittany knew about me and all of the skeletons in my closet. When they greeted Brittany and were met with barely concealed annoyance, it became clear that Brittany was not happy with the people who had been complicit in my lies.

Brittany barely said two words to anyone who tried to engage her in conversation. She just sat there, looking down at her empty plate and picking at her nails until Himanshu started putting food on the table. Since her appetite wasn't back yet, she just grabbed a few pieces of toast, put them on her plate, and watched them exist for a while. I made a point of touching her when I could (brushing our hands when she quietly asked me to pass the butter, letting my fingertips graze her I got up to get more juice), just small touches to remind her that I was there and I was ready whenever she needed me. She flinched the first time our skin made contact, but after that, there was no outward reaction.

The McKinleys kept the conversation flowing in an effort to lessen the tangible awkwardness, but there's only so much small talk you can make when you've all been together in the same building for days. What interesting topics could have possibly come up?

_So Puck, left hand or right?_

Figgins was the worst type of morning person, the kind of person that whistles and asks you how you slept. He was sitting across from Brittany with a full plate of food and smiling chipperly.

"How are you feeling this morning, Brittany?"

"I'd feel a lot better if I could eat," she replied, looking longingly at the bacon and eggs on his plate.

"You'll be eating properly again before you know it," Figgins assured her. "I was hoping that some of today's testing would help you work up an appetite, but it looks like that will have to be postponed."

"Postponed? Why?" Brittany asked.

"I had an interesting conversation with Santana this morning and if I call in a few favors, you'll be able to see your family tomorrow."

Brittany's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Seriously? But I thought you said-"

"I know we said you'd have to finish the testing first, but as Santana pointed out to me, your more… dangerous abilities seems to only affect her and Puck and moving objects with your psychokinetic abilities seems to be something that requires a lot of concentration and effort on your part. A visit with your family should be harmless enough."

Brittany smiled wider than I'd ever seen, but Figgins stuck his finger up.

"Now, I can't permanently release you on good conscience. I just wouldn't feel right about it. You'll still have to go through the full range of tests and have some training, and once you are released, you'll still need to visit us weekly for Juicing. However, I can arrange for your family to visit you regularly while you're here."

"Awesome, I can't wait to see them." She caught my eye momentarily and her smile faltered a little.

"You'll also be able to start training today," Tina said, stirring dried fruit into her hot oatmeal. "David will be joining us in an hour or so and he'll be serving as your mentor."

"You Juiced David, too?" Himanshu asked incredulously. "Woman, are you for _real_?"

Puck pointed his fork at Himanshu menacingly. "You watch your tone, Baby Figgins."

Himanshu scooted his chair away from Puck. "Who made this decision?"

"We voted last night," Tina said.

"Why wasn't I consulted?" he demanded.

"We already knew you were going to say no. You lost four to one."

Himanshu crossed his arm defiantly. "Fine, but for the record, I would like to state that I'm totally against these wasteful uses of our limited resources."

Tina rolled her eyes. "It's not wasteful, Brittany needs to be trained and we all agreed that David would be the best match for her skill set. Also, don't ention-may the ortage-shay in front of the uest-gay."

"Wait, who's gay?" Puck asked with a mouthful of half-chewed food.

"What are we going to do at the end of the week?" Himanshu said, continuing his rant. We've got two barrels of Goo left. Two. They'll go to Brittany and Puck to keep the spores from destroying their brains, but then what?"

Figgins stroked his hairless chin in thought. "I believe we had at least two barrels left at McKinley 9 that might be salvageable."

"If _you_ want to go to the bottom of the ocean to _maybe_ find a barrel of Goo in a submarine, feel free." Himanshu stood up from the table and pushed his chair in noisily. "If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

"World of Warcraft's not business!" Puck yelled after him as he stormed out of the room. I took the opportunity to snatch a piece of his abandoned bacon.

"What's his problem?" I asked, popping the piece of fried pork into my mouth.

"Baby Figgins likes to act like a Doomsday prophet and tell us things that we already know," Tina huffed. "Frankly, I'm getting a little bit annoyed."

"I hope all of this trouble isn't because of me," Brittany said.

Tina waved her away. "Oh no, no, don't think that. We've been having this problem for almost two months now. It has nothing to do with you."

Brittany didn't look convinced. I decided to take this as an opportunity to be helpful even though we weren't quite on the best terms.

"Don't worry about this. Just focus on feeling better and getting your abilities under control. That's all you have to worry about now."

Brittany's eyes met mine.

I spoke quietly so that only she could hear me. "It's okay, Brittany. You can trust these guys. They'll handle it."

The corners of her mouth turned down ever so slightly and I knew I probably shouldn't have used the word "trust."

"I'm going to get ready for training," she said, standing up from the table. When she picked her plate up to take it to the sink, her knife and fork slid around wildly.

"You need to do something about that," Puck whispered to me.

"About what?"

"Do you not see it? That girl is a ten on the Richter Scale."

He stopped talking as Brittany passed him on her way back from the sink.

"I'll be in David's room," she said, pushing her chair in.

Figgins looked at his watch. "Oh dear. I have some phone calls to make if we're going to be having that family visit. Tina, would you mind giving me a hand today?"

"Sure."

The doctors took their plates to the sink and left the room. Puck waved innocently at their backs and as soon as they were gone, he leaned in a little closer.

"To make up for yesterday, I'm gonna be a good lesbro and let you in on a little secret that no one else around here is going to tell you."

"And that secret is…"

"It's the secret of how to stop all that freaking shaking."

"What are you talking about? It's supposed to go away eventually… right?"

"It'll go away after like, her fifth Juicing and I'm sure she's gonna shake her head loose before then. What she needs now is some… you know." He wiggled his eyebrows and elbowed me in the side.

"Some what? Creepy gestures?" I guessed.

He gave me a pitying look. "I'm talking about sex, braniac."

Luckily, I didn't have any food in my mouth because I would have choked on it.

"_Sex_?"

He laughed. "Yeah, sex. Ever heard of it?"

"What is this, some kind of practical joke?" I started to get up from the table, but he pulled me back down by the arm.

"Sex is no joke," he said sternly. "I'm dead serious. If you two do the deed, it'll burn off enough energy for her to be normal for a few hours."

"Sure, of course it will," I scoffed. "You're so full of shit, Puck. You're probably just suggesting it so you can find a way to perv on us or something."

Puck put his hand to his chest, clutching his invisible pearls. "Hey! Noah Puckerman is no pervert! Maybe a little freaky, but definitely not a perv. I swear, it's the truth. Scout's Honor."

I waited for him to laugh or give some indication that he was joking. Instead, he raised one of his eyebrows at me and propped his feet up on the table. "If you don't believe me, you can ask anybody around here. They're not going to ever bring it up, but if you ask, they won't deny it."

"Like it matters. Even if it's true, it's not like Brittany and I even-" I stopped myself, realizing I was offering up way too much information.

An enormous grin spread across Puck's face. "Are you telling me that you've been back home for weeks and you haven't hit that yet?"

"That's none of your business," I growled.

"I guess that means you didn't get your little 'problem' under control."

"My problem? What problem?" I asked suspiciously.

He held his hands up and wiggled his fingers at me.

"You know," he whispered. "Premature hand lasers."

My jaw dropped and my eyes popped out of my head.

"Tina _told_ you?!" I shrieked. My face was burning uncontrollably and I thanked my lucky stars that ethnic people don't blush. I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my life.

"Don't worry," he said, slapping me on the back. "It happens to everyone."

"It doesn't happen to _anyone_!" I shouted.

"Yeah, I know, but I thought it might make you feel better if I said that."

I covered my face with my hands, wishing I could crawl into a hole and die.

"Oh stop it," Puck said, pushing my shoulder. "It's just me. Nobody else knows. Well, except Figgins."

"Figgins?!"

"Yeah, Tina wanted to see if he could figure out a way to help you. Don't worry, he'll never say anything to you about it. He's super into manners and being appropriate and all that jazz." He burped obnoxiously and scratched his exposed stomach. "Anyway, my advice is still good. Brittany just needs to blow off some steam, so if you can't help her out, she can always do it herself."

It took me a second to understand what he meant. You could've fried an egg on my face, it was so hot.

"That's what that whole incident yesterday was about," he explained. "Tina was busy and I still get the shakes every now and then, so I took matters into my own hands."

"You can stop that story right there," I said.

He shrugged. "Ain't no shame in my game. I'm telling you, it works. Take my advice and pass it on down to your lady."

"Me? Why do I have to tell her?"

He looked at me like I was stupid. "She doesn't even know me. If I tell, it's gonna sound creepy."

"I do know you and it sounds creepy. I am _not_ telling her about this." I stood up from the table and poked him in the arm. "We never had this conversation."

He slid his feet off the table and leaned back in his chair. "Suit yourself, but don't say I never tried to help you."

* * *

><p>David Martinez was an attractive man. Even I could see that. He was even better looking when he was conscious, wearing his half-buttoned flannel and his fashionably ripped jeans like a goddamn Abercrombie greeter.<p>

It was stupid to be jealous of the way Brittany looked at him, at the way she listened attentively to him as he explained things to her, at the way she returned his infectious smiles and let him platonically touch her arm as they sat next to each other on the couch in the rec room. It was stupid and it was also embarrassing because every irrationally jealous emotion was clearly written on my face. I wasn't jealous because I thought she wanted him. Like a petulant child, I just wanted her to pay attention to me instead of regarding me with the kind of sad silence I'd been getting all day. I sat in a chair on the other side of the coffee table from them, brooding.

David took Brittany through the mental process of charging up and powering down. She could only power down for a few seconds at the most since her body had so much excess energy flowing through it. Even that small feat was taking a lot out of her.

"I suck at this." Brittany complained.

David smiled kindly at her and I wanted to poke his eyes out. "You're doing fine, Brittany. Once your body gets accustomed to Juicing, you won't have to try so hard. Let's try to work with your psychic abilities see if we can't make some progress there."

"Maybe you guys should take a break," I suggested. "I remember how tiring this stuff can be."

"I'm fine, Santana," she said dismissively.

"You sure?" David asked. "We can stop whenever you want."

"It's okay, I'm good. We can keep going."

David reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. It was a deck of cards.

"We're going to start off easy," he said, setting the box down. "Try lifting this box off the table."

Without hesitation, Brittany reached forward until her hand hovered about a foot above the box. She closed her fist around something I couldn't see and raised her arm. The box came up off the table like she was pulling it by a string.

"Easy?" David asked.

"Easy," Brittany agreed.

"Good. Now try it again, but this time, without using your hands."

Brittany pulled her hand back slowly. "Is that even possible?"

"Why not? If the streaks aren't physical things, it would make sense that you could interact with them without touching them."

Her eyes drifted to me, then back to the cards. I took the glance as encouragement. Any attention was encouragement at this point.

_Can you be a little less pathetic?_

"You can do it, Britt," I said. "You moved Himanshu's shoulder yesterday, remember?"

"That was an accident," she replied, not making eye contact.

I shrugged. "You still did it. If you can do that by accident, imagine what you can do on purpose."

She chewed that over a minute before sitting up straighter and pulling her shoulders back. She narrowed her eyes and focused on the box. When nothing happened, she leaned forward. The box didn't move.

"Don't focus so much on moving it," David instructed. "Try to pretend that it's already moving."

She squinted hard and gripped the edge of the coffee table. "I don't think it's doing anything."

"Concentrate," I said.

"I can't concentrate when you're telling me to concentrate."

"Sorry."

Brittany placed her hands flat on the coffee table and pressed her weight onto it.

"Come on," she muttered. "Move, you dumb box."

One of the boxes corners slowly rose a whole centimeter off of the table.

"Oh look!" I said excitedly, scooting my armchair closer to the table.

The corner wavered. David put his finger to his lips and shushed me.

Brittany sighed. "Santana, I'm trying to concentrate!"

"Sorry, won't happen again." I mimed zipping my mouth shut and throwing away the key.

Brittany leaned harder against the table. A second corner of the box lifted.

"Alright, two corners!" I whispered. "You can do this, you're so close, just don't lose focus."

"Santana-"

The corner of my chair flew off the ground and the whole thing pitched backwards. I waved my arms wildly to regain my balance, but gravity took over. The chair flipped over and I fell, still seated, on my back. My head hit the ground with a thud. Brittany ran around the table and rushed to my side.

"Santana!"

I groaned and rolled onto my side, rubbing the back of my head. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ok, I get it. I'll shut up."

"I didn't do that on purpose, I swear," she said. "I was trying to focus, but you kept talking. I was going to tell you to be quiet, so I looked up and I saw the corner of your chair and my brain just like, zeroed in on it and I swear I didn't mean to knock you over!"

She moved my hand away from the back of my head and replaced it with hers, running her fingers through my hair and brushing my scalp with her fingertips. I took her shaking hand and pulled it to my mouth, kissing the knuckles softly.

"Told you you could do it," I grinned.

She rolled her eyes at me. "I know what you're doing."

"What?"

"You're trying to be super supportive and encouraging and all that stuff. Stop it."

"Why?"

"Because I need to focus and you're distracting me."

"I just want to be-"

"-there for me, yeah, I know. But I think you're overdoing it a little."

"Well, excuse me for trying to be helpful," I grumbled, picking myself up off the floor. "I'm gonna go. Clearly, I'm just getting in the way."

She stood up and grabbed my shoulder. "Santana, don't be like that."

"Be like what? I'm not being like anything." I sounded whiny in my head and I hated it. "David can do a much better job helping you. He's not annoying you and you don't hate talking to him, so it sounds like it's a match made in heaven."

David started to get up from the couch. "Should I give you guys some privacy or…?"

"Just give us a second." Brittany grabbed my arm and started pulling me across the room.

"We don't even need a second. I'm leaving," I called to David as Brittany dragged me behind her. "Problem solved."

Brittany walked us all the way into the hall and closed the rec room door. She lowered her voice and held onto my arm. "Look, I know things have been weird today, but you're not really helping by acting like a baby."

"I think I'm at least acting like a toddler at this point."

She ignored my bad joke. "I see that you're trying to fix this. I do, but it just feels like you're being really… I don't know, aggressive about it?"

That threw me. "Aggressive?"

"You just told me all of this stuff last night, Santana. You can't just drop something like that on me and then turn around and expect things to be normal the next day." She squeezed my arm gently. "Let me process it. Let me be upset about it. Let me figure out what it means."

She had a point. It had barely been twelve hours. Things weren't going to improve in that short amount of time. She let go of my arm and opened the door, signaling the end of that conversation. "I'm going to finish up with David. You probably have something else you could be doing, right? You don't have to hang around and watch this boring stuff."

She might as well have shouted "Stop hovering! You're suffocating me!"

I could see David was watching us from the couch, biting his lip in thought. He had that look on his face, the one that people get when they want the key to your Dungeon of Feelings. The peacemaker in him, the ever-meddling wannabe-shrink in his soul wasn't going to let it go. Luckily, I wasn't sticking around, but I knew he was going to try to get all up in Brittany's business.

"Sure," I said. "I'll just go hang out with Puck. I'll catch up with you later."

Brittany closed the door behind her and because I'm a terrible person, I turned into the next room, shutting the door softly behind me. The room was pitch black except for the tiny red and green lights on some machine in the middle of the floor. My body was charged up and my ear was up against the wall before you could say "eavesdropper."

"Are you ready to start again or do you need a minute?" David asked.

"I need a minute." Brittany flopped down on the couch, causing the ancient springs to creak nosily. They continued to creak as her body shook the couch.

"Looks like you need a few minutes," David observed.

She sighed. "I think I need a month."

David chuckled. "Take all the time you need. This kind of adjustment can take a long time and it goes more smoothly when you're in the right frame of mind," David explained.

"I don't think I'm ever going to be in the right frame of mind, not about this," she said, sounding defeated.

"It takes some getting used to, especially when you didn't choose this for yourself."

"I think that's worst part of the whole thing," Brittany confessed. "I feel like all of these big decisions were made while I was unconscious and now I just have to deal."

"Sounds like you could use somebody to talk to about that. I'm always here if you need a listening ear." He paused. "I know you don't know me, so you might not feel comfortable sharing, but have you tried talking to Santana about this? You both had similar experiences."

"I can't talk to Santana," she said quickly.

"Oh? Tina told me that you and Santana were friends."

"We are. Were. I don't know. It's just hard to talk to her right now."

"Uh-oh, what has she done now?" David laughed. I had to give it to him. Instead of just awkwardly asking what I did, he turned into a joke that was more likely to get a response. He was good at this.

"She hasn't been very honest with me about a lot of things." She let the statement linger in the air before continuing, as if she wasn't sure how much she wanted to say. "She's been keeping some pretty big secrets. So now that it's out in the open, I'm just trying to figure out how I feel. It's all just too much right now. I'm trying to deal with a million different things, but every time she looks at me, all I can think about is how she lied to me and how mad I should be."

"You're not mad?" David asked.

"Oh, I'm mad," Brittany corrected. "What she did was really selfish and I get upset just thinking about it. I just… I could be madder. I should be madder. I don't know why I'm not."

There was a long pause before David replied. "You're hurt."

"Very," Brittany whispered.

The amount of emotion in that single word made my heart ache.

_You hurt her. She's hurting because of you._

She hadn't told me that, but I should have known. It was such a simple, obvious thing and I hadn't realized it. She wasn't putting up her walls because she was mad. She was hurt and she was protecting herself from getting hurt again.

She was protecting herself from me.

"I thought Santana was different," she went on. "A lot of people lie to me or go behind my back 'for my own good.' I never would've expected that from her. I've always been honest with her, so this just… hurts. It hurts a lot."

"I'm sure it does," David agreed.

"She didn't trust me enough to tell me all of these things about her, but now she expects me to just forget about all of that and trust her enough to talk about what's going on with me right now and I can't. I don't even want to. I don't want to open myself up like that again because I don't want to feel like _this_ ever again."

The couch squeaked as she sat back again. "So no. I haven't talked to Santana about waking up and suddenly having super powers. Sorry, I didn't mean to tell you my life story."

"It's okay. I have that effect on people." I could practically see him doing his winky face through the solid wall between us. I had a feeling that Brittany wasn't just suddenly comfortable enough with David the Complete Stranger to be sharing all of these private feelings. He had to be doing something magical to her to make her open up.

"Maybe you should tell Santana what you just told me," he suggested. "She'll understand."

Brittany sighed. "Being around her is difficult right now. She's so eager to fix everything and I just want to sort all of this other stuff out before I even think about that."

"That's exactly why she needs to know. I think she'll calm down if she knows what's going on in your head."

"I can't. She starts making those sad puppy eyes and I just start feeling bad for her. Then I get mad at myself for being a wimp."

_Sad puppy eyes? I don't have sad puppy eyes. That's so not sexy._

"Why don't you practice on me?" David offered.

_What is he up to?_

Brittany laughed. "Don't you think that's kinda weird? I literally just met you an hour ago."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked.

Brittany paused. "No. Not really. I can usually tell when someone's a creeper and I don't get creeper vibes from you at all."

"I'm glad. Let's give this a shot, shall we?"

"Ok, should I just…" she trailed off, sounding as confused as I was.

"How about this? Close your eyes-"

"Now, I'm getting creeper vibes."

"I swear I'm not creepy," he insisted. "Just close your eyes and say what you feel. Pretend I'm Santana."

Brittany didn't respond and I could only hope she was side-eyeing him as hard as I was.

"Okaaaaaaaaay…"

It was silent for a few seconds.

"Um… Santana. God, this is weird. Santana, I feel hurt."

"Why do you feel hurt, Brittany?" David asked.

"I feel hurt because you didn't trust me enough to be honest," she said in a rush.

She paused and took a few deep breaths.

"And…," David prompted.

"I'm hurt because even when I have a hard time being honest with myself, I always try to be honest with you. I don't know, maybe it's not fair to ask you to be open with me if I can't be open about…"

She trailed off, but somehow I knew the end of that sentence was the word "us." She couldn't bring herself to say it in front of David. She abandoned the sentence and moved on.

"This is gonna take time," Brittany said steadily, "and I can see that you're trying really hard to be my cheerleader, but it's driving me nuts. Every single thing you say to me doesn't have to be a Band-aid for this, okay?"

"But… but I just want to help. I want us to fix things."

I nearly fell over as the sound of my own voice came through the wall.

_Davetana!_

Brittany gasped audibly.

"What in the world?" she whispered. "Are you… how did you… what?"

"Don't worry, I just look like her," David explained. "This is practice, remember? I'm gonna give you the sad puppy eyes and you're going to be strong. Okay?"

"What the hell does he think he's doing?" I hissed.

"Who the fuck is in here?" someone demanded sleepily.

The lights in the room suddenly came on. I spun around on my heel and for the first time I realized that I was in a bedroom and I wasn't alone. From his shocked expression, I could tell the person on the bed was clearly not expecting visitors.

He was wearing a light undershirt and the sheets were draped haphazardly around his waist. His face was a mottled mess of brown putty, a random assortment of scarcely distinguishable features protruding from a deeply scarred face. One of his arms was a patchwork quilt of skin and the other was shiny and smooth like glass.

I didn't even recognize him until his shock wore off and that familiar look of annoyance graced what was left of his features.

"Ben?" I whispered.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" His voice was raspy and strained, probably from sleep and disuse, but my mind had already warped it into the results of a horrible accident, a leftover gift from a roadside bomb.

"I- I was just- the door was unlocked-" I stammered.

His barely perceptible brow furrowed and his mouth turned down in a scowl.

"Get. Out."

I quickly turned and fled, almost tripping over the machine in the middle of the room (which appeared to be a giant humidifier) on my way out. I slammed the door shut behind me, and like an idiot, I ran back into the rec room.

Suddenly, the situation at hand came back to the forefront.

Davetana was standing by the couch, facing Brittany. The fashionably ripped jeans, which had fit David's larger waist perfectly, were slung low on my slim hips and because David was an underwearless heathen, my hip bones were sticking out above his belt. To top it off, his open flannel shirt was exposing copious sideboob for Brittany and the entire world to see. _My_ sideboob.

Brittany, bless her soul, was staring at David with her mouth hanging open. David was trying to give her "sad puppy eyes," but he was only succeeding in making me look constipated. It didn't really matter because Brittany wasn't looking anywhere near his face.

"I… I…"

"What do you say next?" Davetana asked.

"I… I can't speak."

"Probably not the most effective argument."

"What's going on in here?" I called from the doorway, announcing my presence.

Davetana looked over at me and grinned, which was beyond unnerving. Brittany hopped away from him like she'd been caught doing something naughty. I strolled over to them and plopped myself down on the couch.

"You know, David, you can't just take my body for a spin whenever the mood strikes you. I'm not a rental car."

"I just wanted to show Brittany how my abilities work, that's all," he lied.

I was glad that he was covering for her instead of spilling the beans and telling me that she needed to practice telling me her feelings. Part of me was glad that even if she didn't feel like she could talk to me, she at least had David. She was already clearly embarrassed. All the embarrassment in the world couldn't stop her eyes from bouncing quickly back and forth between the two of us.

I gestured to all of the chest that David was exposing. "Well, now that the demonstration's over, can you cover up my breasts? Just a smidge? 'Preciate it."

* * *

><p>The next day was incredibly busy. The plan to see Brittany's family and Mercedes was complicated to say the least.<p>

As I suspected, none of the McKinley people wanted anyone coming to the warehouse. Luckily, Figgins had some connections at Ohio State University's hospital, so he got us Brittany, Quinn, and I "admitted" as "patients." He was able to get a room for the three of us and have the records show us being admitted early in the day. He'd briefly considered using his connections at Lima General Hospital, but Brittany shot down that plan. Tommy worked there and the risk of him showing up and ripping holes in our story was too great.

One of Himanshu's spare transformers was also a helicopter, so Figgins got us cleared to land on the hospital's roof. Five of us entered the building without any interference from real hospital employees. We'd practiced the scenario over and over the night before until everyone had the story down pact. Once we entered our room, David opened his duffle bag and started throwing everyone their costumes.

Tina and Himanshu would be wearing scrubs and lab coats. The rest of us would be wearing standard issue hospital gowns.

"Ok, Santana," Tina said, straightening her clothing. "Where are you?"

"We're in Columbus at OSU's hospital," I answered.

"And how long have you been here, Brittany?"

Brittany pulled her hospital gown over her head and began to shimmy out of her jeans. "We just woke up here today, but we've been gone for five days."

She looked up and caught me staring. I averted my eyes and focused on getting myself dressed.

"Dr. Prime, what do the test results show for these patients?"

Himanshu was wearing a pair of red scrubs with Optimus Prime's head embroidered on the pocket. "There seems to be a destructive chemical in their systems. We'll need to keep them here for observation and visitation will be limited to certain hours of the day until we can figure out what's going on."

"Good, good." Tina clapped her hands together. "Now, you three take your places. David, do your thing."

As we'd planned, Brittany and David sat in the beds on one side of the room and I sat in a bed on the other. As soon as David was situated, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Oddly enough, the first thing to change was his butt chin. The small indentation filled out and seconds later, his whole head started to shrink. His face became less angular and his cheeks plumped up. His stubble retracted into his skin.

"This is kinda gross," Brittany said aloud.

David's skin and hair lightened at the same time. His short spiky 'do grew longer and longer until it reached the base of his neck. His lips filled out and breasts exploded from his chest like airbags under his hospital gown.

"That part always hurts a little," he complained.

I'd never seen David transform before. I had only seen the end result. It was a little bit more than "kinda gross."

David, now the spitting image of Quinn Fabray, turned to Brittany nervously. "Do I look okay? Did I get it right?"

She stared at him for a moment, quietly observing a living, conscious replica of her best friend. She swallowed hard and nodded. "Perfect."

Tina checked her phone. "Alright, ladies. Figgins called your families this morning, so they should be here any minute now."

"I thought you were gonna make the calls," I said. "Did you give Figgins my instructions?"

"I didn't have time, I was rushing this morning. I just gave him the phone numbers you gave me and told him to call."

"Great," I muttered.

I had given Tina two phone numbers: one for Mercedes and one for my mother's house. I'd also instructed her not to talk to anyone at my mother's house except Natalie. The mere thought of having my mother inflicted upon me while I was confined to a hospital bed made me nauseous.

"Remember, you're going to need to act like you don't remember anything about the last few days," Tina instructed. "Maybe you remember going to bed the night before, but that's it."

A half hour later when the room's phone rang, Tina answered it.

"I'll be back," she said after hanging up. "I have to go pick up the visitors from the nurses' station. Himanshu, keep your eyes open and let us know if we need to make a quick exit."

She left the room and disappeared into the hall. The new Lucy Q. lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

"Are you going to be able to pull this off?" I asked curiously.

"I'm used to being unconscious for long periods of time." He covered himself with the bed sheets. His breathing evened out almost instantly and he got eerily still. Himanshu rushed forward and started hooking David up to nearby machines. When he stepped back, David looked exactly like the real Quinn did back at McKinley. Brittany looked away and quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Brittany." The words were out of my mouth and it was too late to call them back.

She looked at me expectantly.

_She doesn't want to hear any of your feel-good BS. She needs time._

"Are you ready?" I asked stupidly.

She nodded. "As ready as I'm going to get."

When I heard Tina's voice and the sound of high heels click-clacking in the hallway, I took a deep breath and tried to steel myself for what was coming through the door.

_I guess Mommy Dearest got here fast._

My two seconds of preparation were all in vain because when Judy Fabray walked in the door, the air in my lungs evaporated.

"Brittany," she gasped, rushing into the room. She hurried towards Brittany's bed, but midway, she caught sight of "Quinn." She stopped abruptly, staring at Quinn's unconscious body as her shoulders began to shake. Brittany climbed out of the bed on quivering legs and wrapped Judy up in a hug.

"Brittany," Judy cried, sobbing freely in Brittany's arms. "Oh my babies! What happened to my babies?"

Brittany squeezed Judy tighter, looking like she was about to start crying, too. "We're okay. Everything's gonna be alright."

I felt like I was intruding on a private moment, but there wasn't really anywhere for me to go.

Frannie and Mojo walked in next. The girls must have come straight from school because they were both wearing their backpacks. Frannie was wearing her cheerleading uniform, but Mojo looked quite different than she had the last time I saw her. She was wearing a ratty t-shirt and tattered jeans. Her hair was an uncombed hot mess sticking out from under a large rastacap. Her backpack was covered in band stickers and buttons. It appeared that she was no longer a member of the Cult of the High Pony.

She was dragging a dazed-looking Mo behind her. Tina pulled up the rear.

Frannie was the only one who looked my way. She saw me and gave me a small wave, which I returned. She turned back to her family and put a tentative hand on her mother's back. To Frannie's surprise, Judy swept her up into the big hug, blindly reaching out and pulling Mojo in, too. Mo hung back as his eyes trailed over all of the machines that Quinn was hooked up to. When Judy finally released the girls from the group hug, Brittany and Mojo went to Mo to comfort him. As he scooped Brittany up, he started to cry loudly.

Really, _really_ loudly.

"My baby girl!" he wailed. "I was so worried! I looked everywhere for you, all over the mall, every rest stop-"

"Daddy, shhhh," Brittany whispered soothingly. "Don't, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm safe. I'm here. I was gone and now I'm back."

"You're back," he blubbered. "You're back. You're back. You're back."

He just kept saying it over and over. Mojo buried her face into his shirt and started crying, too. I watched the Pierces as they shared their moment. I knew they all had to be thinking of Brittany's mother, who unlike Brittany, was gone and had never made it back. The Fabrays stood to the side in a similar embrace, each of them holding on to part of Quinn, who was gone and still hadn't made it back.

Mo started to tilt as he wept, leaning so heavily forward that they all staggered a bit under his weight. When he let them go, Brittany whispered something to Mojo and Mojo paused before nodding in response. Brittany sighed and her lips pressed together in a thin line.

Meanwhile, Judy seemed to be speaking softly to her daughter, holding her hand and stroking her hair. Frannie's gaze was focused on Quinn's feet. It looked like she was having a hard time seeing her older sister in that state. For the next fifteen minutes or so, pairs of the Pierce-Fabray clan moved from Brittany to Quinn and back in various combinations, rarely acknowledging each other verbally except when they spoke to Brittany.

At one point, Judy ushered Brittany back to her bed.

"Here sit down, you shouldn't be standing!" she chided.

Brittany got back into her bed and Judy proceeded to take her temperature by feeling Brittany's forehead with the back of her hand, despite the fact that we were currently sitting in one of the best hospitals in the nation.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked. "Tired? Groggy? Nauseous?"

Brittany hesitated, glancing at Tina for guidance. Tina, who was standing on my side of the room, shrugged her shoulders.

"My shoulders hurt," Brittany blurted out, mistaking Tina's gesture for a helpful hint.

"Your shoulders?" Judy asked.

Tina shook her head and discreetly waved her hand, using nonverbal communication to indicate that she was, in fact, not trying to communicate nonverbally.

Brittany gave her a confused look. "…and I have the shakes?"

Judy frowned. "I noticed."

Tina furrowed her brow, not wanting to move so that Brittany wouldn't say anything else.

"And I need my eyebrows waxed," Brittany guessed.

Tina slapped her hand over her eyebrows in horror and I put my face in my hands to stop myself from laughing.

Judy felt Brittany's forehead again. "Eyebrows? What on earth are you talking about, dear? Are you medicated?" She snapped her fingers rudely to summon Tina. "Dr. Puckerman!"

I couldn't roll my eyes hard enough at that name.

"Yes?" Tina answered.

"Can you tell us what's going on? Brittany seems to be disoriented. Whatever medication you've got her on, I want her off of it immediately. Also, get her something for these tremors. A mild sedative should do the trick."

"We haven't prescribed her anything yet, Mrs. Pierce-" Tina began.

Everyone cringed.

"Fabray," Judy quickly corrected. "It's Fabray."

"Oh! Sorry about that. Mrs… Ms… um, ma'am. Perhaps I should bring you up to speed on what's happened since this morning. Your daughter… daughters and several others were found in an abandoned building and were brought to the hospital this morning. The Columbus police were able to help us positively ID them as the two women who went missing from the Lima mall two days ago. Once we were sure, we contacted you."

"What's wrong with them, doctor?" Judy asked. She was more than a little bit frantic. "The police aren't even sure what was going on at that mall. They found blood, but they don't even know what happened or who was involved. They can't tell us anything!"

"We haven't been given any information about that event, either. What we can tell you is that your daughters have been exposed to a very harmful chemical. We're still determining the makeup of this chemical and its impacts, but so far the tests have been inconclusive. It appears they were injected with it during the time that they were away. We'll be keeping all of the patients here for observation until we can determine the effects and the correct treatments."

Judy visibly paled. "Who would do this kind of thing to innocent girls? They were only at the mall to report on a story!"

"It's impossible for us to know that kind of thing, ma'am," Tina said. "That's up to the police to determine. We're just here to treat the injuries and help your daughters heal."

Mo leaned forward, almost knocking Mojo over in the process. "We appreciate everything you're doing, doctor. You heal our babies up and we'll worry about finding the fuckers who did this."

"Morris, please clean up your language," Judy said tightly. "You're in a hospital, for goodness sake."

"It's not 'St. Judith Fabray's Hospital,' so I think I'm allowed to say 'fuck.'" He rolled his eyes in annoyance and they kept rolling. And rolling. And rolling.

Even without the profanity, Mo's voice was too loud for a hospital room. Mojo whispered something to him and tried to get him to shift his weight so that he wasn't smothering her. Judy looked at him with a glazed, blank expression before shaking her head and turning back to Tina.

"When can we expect Quinnie to wake up?" she asked.

"Right now, we can't really be sure. She's suffering from some slight swelling in the brain, most likely caused by blunt force trauma. If it gets any worse, she'll need surgery." Tina went into some other doctor stuff that I only vaguely understood, but I think that was the point. Making it sound complicated would cover up the fact that it was a lie. I had to give it to Tina, though. She was a smooth liar. The Pierces and Fabrays were none the wiser.

"So Brittany's okay, then?" Mojo asked.

"We're running some tests to determine that," Tina said. "We'll be keeping her here until we know definitively."

"And the same thing that's wrong with Brittany is wrong with her?" Frannie asked, pointing at me.

For the first time, the other Pierces and Fabray noticed my presence. Judy's expression hardened at the sight of me, but Mo was overjoyed.

"Santana!" he shouted. He let go of Mojo and stumbled across the room to my bed, throwing his arms around me. "When did you get here?"

He wrapped me up in a bear hug and it took everything in me not to gag. He reeked of alcohol and sweat. The smell was so strong that the bartender in me could almost taste whiskey at the back of my throat.

Brittany started to get out of bed to retrieve her father, but Judy grabbed her arm and held her back. Mojo was behind him in a flash.

"Daddy," she hissed. "Let go!"

He didn't and I just kind of sat there, letting him hug me. I liked Mo and normally I wouldn't mind. It was just that he smelled like the people I would find in the Ladies Night bathroom at the end of the night.

_As long as he doesn't vomit or pee, I think I can manage._

"Frannie told me you were missing again and I just couldn't-" He burst into tears again, squeezing the life out of me.

"I'm alright, Mr. Pierce," I said, awkwardly patting his sweaty back.

"I told you, call me Mo!" he wailed into my hair.

Judy stormed across the room and grabbed Mo's shoulder, yanking him backwards. "Morris, stop it! Just stop it! Get a hold of yourself!"

Mojo stepped between them and glared at her. "Back off, Judy. I got him. Chill the hell out."

Frannie gave Mojo a warning look. Mojo crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, almost daring Frannie to say something. I realized that Mojo and Frannie hadn't even spoken to each other since they'd arrived. Brittany was still in bed, looking devastated.

_She wasn't joking. They really _are_ falling apart._

Tina cleared her throat, attempting to dispel the tension that had traveled over to my side of the room.

"Ms. Lopez woke up just as you arrived," she said. "Other patients have regained consciousness as well. We're running blood tests on all of them to determine what other chemicals they may have been exposed to."

Other patients didn't exist.

"Do you remember what happened?" Judy waited for my response with a hopeful expression, addressing me directly for the first time since she found out I was a lesbian.

"Um… not really," I said weakly. "I don't remember anything from that day. I don't remember anything after going to bed the night before."

She nodded stiffly. "Well, if you think of anything, make sure to tell the doctors and the police right away."

"I will," I lied.

The phone rang and Tina promptly answered it.

"I'm going to make another trip to the nurses's station," she said. "I'll be right back."

Frannie and Mojo were still sizing each other up while Mo swayed unsteadily in the background. The three of them were making me more uncomfortable than Judy was. Brittany slid out of bed and walked over, looping her arm around Mo's waist and dragging him back to her side of the room.

"Why don't you all just have a seat?" She managed to get Mo into a chair, but the rest of them stood in silence.

Tina came back a few minutes later with Mercedes and Sam in tow. I was wrapped up in Mercedes's arms before I knew what was happening. She didn't say anything. She just squeezed me as hard as she could for as long as she could.

"Hey there," I whispered into her ear.

She pulled back, blinking away tears. "I'm gonna need you to stop disappearing on me."

"I'm sorry. I'm not doing it on purpose, I swear."

Sam, who was standing behind her, rolled his eyes and shook his head. I gave him a dirty look over Mercedes's shoulder. I knew he was concocting crazy scenarios in his head where I ran off with the "Power Rangers," did something reckless, and got everyone hurt. But he was wrong. I was just trying to stop Kurt and his band of merry men from doing God-Knows-What at the mall. I hadn't exactly planned any of it.

"Trouty," I said in greeting.

"Hey, Santana." He smiled tightly in response.

Mercedes rested her head on my shoulder. "You gotta stop scaring everybody like this, okay? I don't think my heart can take it."

"Won't happen again," I promised.

"It better not. I might have to put you on house arrest pretty soon."

Himanshu's voice rang out in the hall. "Excuse me, ma'am, but you can't go in there!

To my surprise, Natalie barged into the room with Himanshu hot on her heels, scowling and gripping the phone in her hand like she was trying to crush it.

"I can go anywhere I want to go," she snapped. "Now if you don't back off, I'm going to stuff your fun-sized body into a bedpan."

"It's okay, doctor," I called across the room. "She's my sister."

"I can see the resemblance," Himanshu grumbled under his breath as he returned to the hall.

Like Frannie, Natalie was also wearing her cheerleading uniform and backpack. Her expression changed from anger to shock when she saw me sitting in the hospital bed. Frannie walked over and gave her a hug, which she generously accepted. They whispered something to each other before letting go. Frannie returned to her family and Natalie walked around to the other side of my bed, giving Mojo a pointed glare and adjusting her high ponytail as she walked.

_Do I even want to know what that's about? Probably not._

"I didn't know you were going to be awake," Nat said as she reached the side of my bed. "Mercedes said you were supposed to be in a coma or something." She was trying to sound tough and unaffected, but the drying tear tracks on her face were giving her away.

"I woke up right before you guys got here," I said.

"How many times can one person disappear into thin air?" she wondered.

"Hopefully, two is the limit."

"You'll have to teach me how you do it," she muttered, not-so-subtly sneaking a peek across the room to look at Mojo. "I could use a vacation."

Mercedes frowned at the joke. It was in pretty bad taste, but I could tell that Natalie was just putting on a brave face.

"A magician never reveals her secrets," I replied. Mercedes and Sam both frowned at that, but the corner of Nat's mouth quirked up in a tiny smile. We've always had the same messed up sense of humor. It was one of the few things we had in common besides some facial features, an affinity for snark, and the fact that we came from the same demented womb.

Across the room, Judy was standing by Quinn's bed, hammering Tina with questions that she answered with ease and lies. Frannie stood by her mother, rubbing her back and listening to Tina's answers. Mo was sitting by Brittany's bed, still heavily leaning on Mojo even while seated. Every once in a while he'd get too loud or animated and Brittany or Mojo would shush him.

It was stupid to feel jealous of the fact that Brittany and Quinn's parents were there, especially when her dad was clearly wasted, but I was.

"How do you feel?" Mercedes asked, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead.

"I feel okay," I said. "My head feels like it's stuffed with marshmallows, but I could get used to that."

She lowered her voice and leaned closer. "Did anybody… hurt you?"

I knew what she was asking. When I came home from McKinley and told her my made-up version of what happened while I was gone, she'd asked outright if I'd been sexually assaulted. Mercedes worried about me like it was her job and she knew I had a tendency to let my emotional wounds fester before I ever told her about them.

"No, nobody did anything like that," I assured her.

Her relief was almost tangible. She smiled at me and rubbed my forearm.

"Praise God," she whispered.

Sam folded his arms over his chest, still frowning at me. "How would you even know that, though? Weren't you unconscious until just now?"

Mercedes's smile slowly faded and I saw about fifty emotions flicker across her face as her mind went to the worst possible places. Her eyes left my face and started scanning my body for injuries she couldn't possibly hope to detect.

I've never wanted to punch Sam so badly in my life.

"I asked the doctor," I said quickly, trying to undo the damage of Sam's words. "They examined everyone. No one was hurt like _that_."

"I just think it's kind of weird that you've gone missing twice and you haven't really come back injured," Sam said. "You must get kidnapped by the nicest people in the world."

I knew what he was trying to do. Sam knew that I hadn't been sexually assaulted. So he was insisting that I probably _would_ have been sexually assaulted if I'd really been kidnapped in order to expose me as a liar. Unfortunately, he was so focused on poking holes in my story that he didn't realize what seeds he was planting in Mercedes head.

"I mean, who kidnaps someone and just lets them chill out on their couch the whole time? They had to have done _something_, right? Otherwise, what was the point?"

_Jesus! Drop it already!_

My jaw clenched and I used all the will power in my body not to appear outwardly angry. "I guess I'm just blessed."

Playing the religion card would set Mercedes's mind at ease, but at the same time, it would confirm for Sam that I was lying.

But Mercedes wasn't listening anymore. She was just staring at my knees with her brow furrowed, chewing on her bottom lip.

Tina waltzed over to the end of my bed, probably relieved to escape the barrage of questions that Judy had thrown at her.

"Sorry, that took longer than I thought. Do you all have any questions for me?" She smiled brightly at me and patted my ankle.

_She's never this nice when I'm actually hurt!_

Mercedes snapped out of her trance and went into caretaker mode, asking all of the questions Judy had asked and a billion more that I never would've thought to ask. She didn't go anywhere near the sexual assault question, but I knew it was because Sam had introduced too much doubt in her head and she probably didn't want to confirm her fears.

We spent a few hours with the most important people in our lives before our time ran out. Figgins could only get us the room for a certain amount of time.

"Alright, folks," Tina announced. "Visiting hours in this wing are almost over. I'll have to escort you out in the next thirty minutes or so."

"I guess you should tell Mom not to come," I said to Natalie.

Apparently, that was exactly the wrong thing to say.

Nat's eyes narrowed and she bared her teeth in a snarl. "She's tied up at the country club, couldn't make it. She told me to send her best."

"Oh."

Heat and embarrassment washed over my face and I suddenly felt really, really stupid.

_You really thought she would come see you? After 23 years on this earth, you haven't learned your lesson yet, have you? How many times does she have to disappoint you before you stop caring?_

It was silly of me to think that she would show up. My mom needed an audience, a microphone, and a podium at a minimum to make an appearance. Her inability to care stung like it always did, but I didn't react outwardly. Mercedes put her hand on my knee.

"That's all you can say? 'Oh'?" Nat fumed.

I shrugged. "What do you want me to say, Nat? That woman hasn't seen me in two years. I guess I can't say I'm surprised."

Everyone knew that my relationship with my mother was defined by our lack of meaningful interaction and consisted of her pretending to care about me while I pretended not to care about her. I had learned at a young age not to outwardly express my disappointment because I knew it made my abuela feel bad.

It seemed Natalie was taking serious issue with my mother's indifference. It was different for her, though. She and my mom had always lived together. She probably had some positive experiences to balance out the negative.

"She didn't even know that you were missing again," Natalie spat. She was madder than I'd ever seen her. "_I_ didn't even know until the hospital called! Who doesn't come see their own daughter in the fucking hospital?"

"Mercedes, why don't you guys go say goodbye to Brittany?" I suggested. Mercedes nodded, realizing that I needed to handle some family business, and led Sam across the room.

"Look, Nat. Having expectations for that woman is only going to lead to disappointment," I said bluntly. "You need to let that go."

"Santana, it's not _fair_. She shouldn't be allowed to not care about us- about you like that. She's a mother and that's not what a mother should do." Nat's face scrunched up and I could tell that she was holding back some angry tears.

I couldn't even begin to pretend that I knew the intimate inner workings of Natalie's relationship with either of her parents. I held out my arms to her and she just stood there looking confused.

"Come here," I commanded. "I want to give you a hug."

She stepped into my hug without being rude or awkward about it. She didn't squeeze me or cling to me. She just held me, just letting the hug happen. I wondered how many people hugged Natalie regularly. It appeared that Frannie did, and Mojo might have when they weren't beefing. My mom and her dad weren't the touchy feely types, so even if her friends hugged her, her family sure as hell wasn't doing it.

"I'm really glad you came to see me, Nat," I whispered. "I really want to see you more often."

"You do?" She sounded pretty surprised that I would say something like that. To be honest, I was a little surprised, too. After giving it a second of thought, I realized that it was true and that I wasn't just saying it because she was sad.

"Yeah. I mean, you're my sister. You're the only sibling I have."

"Half-sibling," she corrected.

"Still. You're the only blood relative that I claim. That has to count for something, right?"

She released me and stepped back. "I guess so. I'm probably going to be grounded when I get back, though. My dad's going to kill me when he finds out I took his car all the way to Columbus."

"Jesus, Nat. Tell you what," I said, "I'll give you a call when I get back into town and if your dad hasn't shipped you off to a nunnery, we'll take it from there, okay?"

"Sure, just don't die first." She pointed over at Frannie. "I'm gonna say goodbye."

Frannie met Nat in the middle of the room and they walked over by the empty bed to talk. Sam and Mo were sitting in chairs by the window. Mercedes was standing by Brittany's bed, holding her hand and talking quietly to her.

Did you know that eavesdropping was addictive?

"I didn't want to bust up your family moment," Mercedes said quietly to Brittany. "I'll be back tomorrow and hopefully, we'll have some time to chat."

"I'm looking forward to that," Brittany said smiling for the first time since we left the warehouse.

"I'm so glad you're alright. I was going out of my mind when they started showing all that stuff on the news about the mall." She averted her gaze. "I'm so sorry I didn't call you back when you texted me about that guy in the suit. I called Santana to make sure she wasn't at the mall, but she wasn't picking up and I-"

Brittany shushed her. "It's okay, Mercedes. You did the right thing. It would make sense for you to check on Santana since that guy was around."

"Yeah, but-"

"The police still don't even know what happened, so I don't think there was much you could've done."

Mercedes sighed. "I've been at the police station everyday trying to get someone to listen to me. It's like the first time Santana disappeared all over again. Everybody in the mall said the same thing about the guy in the purple suit and I told them that he was the same one who kidnapped Santana, but I just get ignored. It's like they don't even _want_ to catch that guy."

"The cops aren't going to help," Brittany said. "If we want something done right, we're gonna have to do it ourselves."

Mercedes eyes widened. "Girl, I think it's time for your medication."

Brittany shook her head. " No, seriously. We can't just sit around and wait, Mercedes. You can't tell anyone that I remember this, but… that guy in the suit? He was there to take Quinn. He just took me because I tried to pretend I was her. And now he took Santana for the second time."

Mercedes bit her lip anxiously. "What can we do besides get ourselves killed?"

"I don't know, but we can't do nothing. He's gonna try it again, Mercedes. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I can't let him take Quinn and _we_ can't let him take Santana."

Mercedes looked in my direction and I dropped my eyes to my bed sheet, pretending to play with it.

"We can't," she agreed. "I can't do this again."

Brittany nodded. "Good, neither can I. When I get back home, we'll come up with something."

Himanshu walked into the room, shrinking away from Natalie as he passed her. "Sorry, everyone, but visiting hours are over for today. We'll need to sign everyone out at the nurses station."

Mercedes hugged Brittany and gave her a kiss on the cheek before coming back over to my side of the room. "I'm coming back tomorrow."

I waved her off. "You have to go to work. You don't have time to drive all the way back up here from Lima."

She ignored me. "I'm coming back here tomorrow. If you're not here when I get here, so help me God-"

"I'm not going anywhere," I said quickly. "I promise."

She threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. "You already promised me that once."

She stepped to the side to gather her belongings. Sam took her place and quickly embraced me. I knew what was coming before he even opened his cavernous mouth.

"I'm not gonna let you drag Mercedes into this," he whispered. "I won't let her end up like Quinn because of you. This is the last time I'm going to let you lie to her."

"Quinn didn't end up like that because of me," I murmured, watching Mercedes.

"Really? Because everyone's been talking about a guy in a purple suit and the only guy I know that wears a purple suit is that guy who tried to kill us in that parking lot. That guy was after _you_."

"Right, and when he saw me the other day, he didn't give a rat's ass about me," I said. "He was there for Quinn and Finntastic. If I hadn't shown up, Quinn and Brittany would both be dead or missing right now."

"So you do remember what happened then." I felt him smirk against my ear as if he'd "caught" me.

"Yeah, I remember. You seem to be the one with memory problems around here because you've completely forgotten that the whole purse snatcher thing was _your_ fault, Dudley Do-Right, and that _I_ followed you to save _your_ ass."

We were so close together that I could feel the heat on his face.

"You want me out of Mercedes' life? Do what you gotta do," I spat. Literally. I literally projected saliva into his ear. "But remember this: that guy in the purple suit? He's very, very real. Oh and guess what? He's got super powers now. How the hell do you expect to protect Mercedes when you can't even take care of yourself? You got hit on the head and you had to go to the hospital. If I were you, I would want someone like me around, because if you run headfirst into another trap like you did last time, you're _fucked_."

I released him and he stepped back, clearly not pleased with what I said, but unable to argue further.

After another goodbye hug from Nat and a wave to the Fabrays and Pierces, the room started to clear out. Out of nowhere, Himanshu grabbed Mojo's backpack.

"Excuse me?" She grabbed his hand and removed it, glaring at him.

Himanshu pulled his hand back, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, didn't mean to grab you. I just saw that button on your bag and I was wondering where you got it."

"Which one?" There were no less than one million patches, buttons, and stickers on that bag.

"This one here." He pointed and from where I was sitting, I had no idea which one he was talking about.

Mojo looked Himanshu up and down suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

He smiled brightly. "I'm what you would call an 'enthusiast.'"

"An enthusiast of what?" she smirked, looking down at the button and back at him.

He opened his lab coat and pointed at the picture of Optimus Prime on his scrubs. "Transformers, of course. Nothing else."

After a long pause, she finally answered him. "I got it from a friend of mine."

Without another word, she turned and followed her family out into the hall.

"What the hell was that about?" Tina asked.

He shook his head. "Not here. I'll tell you later. Let's wait until they're on the road and then we'll start packing it in."

Thirty minutes later, we were back in our helicopter, on our way home. David had returned to us and was sitting across from me, rubbing his pecs tenderly. Brittany was seated to my left. I could tell by her expression that the family visit hadn't met her expectations.

"Are you okay?" I asked as quietly and privately as I could on a helicopter with other people around.

"Not really," she answered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

Before I could respond, Tina rudely leaned around me to talk to Baby Figgins.

"Ok, Himanshu. What's the deal with that button?"

He practically jumped out of his seat in excitement. The seatbelts held him tight as he gestured wildly. "You didn't see it? It was Cannabis Prime!"

"Cannabis Prime on a button? Where the heck would she have gotten that?" Tina asked, shocked.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

"That picture," Himanshu explained, "is the Autobot symbol from Transformers, but here," he pointed to the middle of his forehead, "there's a marijuana leaf."

He beamed at us like an idiot, as if that one sentence should have explained everything.

"And you're excited about that because..." Brittany prompted.

"I drew that picture," he said proudly. "It was for a very specific person and very specific purpose, but that's definitely my art."

I was able to picture the image pretty easily in my head and I realized it was because I'd seen it before. I couldn't remember where or why, but I could see it pretty clearly.

"So how did Mojo get it?" I asked.

"That's what I don't… wait, Mojo? That's her name?"

"It's a nickname," Brittany clarified.

"What kind of nickname is that?" he laughed.

"What kind of nickname is Baby Figgins?" she shot back.

He smile withered and he lowered his head. "The kind that will never, ever die no matter how much you beg and plead."

I tapped my fingers impatiently on my armrest. "Can you finish telling me why we care about Cannabis Prime?"

"We should all care because I think the answer to our Goo shortage is finding out where 'Mojo' really got that button."

"She said her friend gave it to her," Brittany said. "The end."

"Yeah, because teenagers always tell the truth," he scoffed.

"My sister is not a liar," she said defensively. "She got it from some high schooler who probably just printed it off the internet or something. It can't be so rare that no one's ever seen it."

"It's not rare. Even _I've_ seen that symbol before," I chimed in.

Himanshu opened his mouth and out of the corner of my eye, I saw both Tina and David give their heads the tiniest of shakes. His pressed his lips into a tight line.

"Yeah," he said. "I bet you have."

Since I can only take so much weirdness at one time and we were currently being medevac'd in a self-piloting Transformer/helicopter from the hospital where we would be pretending to be patients until Brittany finished performing tests to evaluate her superpowers, I decided not to ask what that meant.

* * *

><p>Brittany didn't say a word to me all evening.<p>

Remembering what she said earlier about wanting me to stop trying to fix everything, I kept my mouth shut. She excused herself from the table in the middle of dinner, which was just as well since she wasn't eating, but when I returned to David's room later, she wasn't there.

David had offered to bunk with Baby Figgins and let Brittany and I stay in his room until we went home. I settled into bed with one of his books, using all the willpower in my body to not track her down. Around eleven o'clock, I gave up the fight and went to look for her. It didn't take me long. She was in Quinn's room, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a deck of cards scattered in front of her. I watched her carefully from the hallway. She held a card in each quaking hand, making them stand straight up and down on the ground. A third card hovered in the air and slowly came down to form a roof over the other two, but once it touched the other shaking cards, it lost its balance and fell to the ground.

"Crap," Brittany hissed.

I stepped into the doorway. "Britt?"

Her shoulders tensed at the sound of my voice and she looked up. "Hey, Santana."

I shuffled awkwardly as I entered the room and approached her. "What are you up to?"

"I wanted to see Quinn and I thought I'd practice using my… whatever." She gestured to the cards on the floor.

"Can I help?" I usually felt at least a little bit timid around Brittany, even though it didn't always show, but now that her feelings about me were up in the air, my timidity was reaching new heights. I didn't feel sure about anything anymore.

She thought it over for a moment. "Only if you promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Promise you won't ask me about how I'm feeling or about anything that happened today."

"Why? Is there something-"

"No, Santana," she said firmly. "That's the deal. I don't want to talk about it."

I could tell by her tone that she was serious.

"Ok, I won't ask," I agreed reluctantly. I sat down across from her on the floor, mirroring her position. "So what are we trying to do here exactly?"

"I'm building a house of cards, but I'm trying not to use my hands very much." She picked up two cards again, ready to use them as walls for the first part of the structure. "It's not going so great."

"That sounds pretty hard," I said. "Don't you think you should try something easier first? Maybe work up to this?"

"The faster I get this stuff under control, the sooner I can go home."

"You have to crawl before you run, B."

"I know that."

"You don't have to push yourself so hard. I mean, your family knows you're okay now. They know where you are, you can see them every day if you want to."

"I just need to be there with them. Things get too crazy when-" She stopped and closed her eyes. "Nevermind."

When she opened them, she focused on the cards with a renewed determination. The ace of clubs rose into the air and hovered over her hands. She settled the card securely on top of the other two and managed to keep it there for a second, but a spastic flick of her wrist caused the card to fall in again.

"This is ridiculous," she huffed.

"I'm telling you, B, this is really hard for someone who just started training. I never would've been able to do anything like this on my second day."

She didn't respond immediately, instead choosing to stack some of the cards into a small pile, but after a moment of silence, she put the mini-deck down and looked up at me.

"Show me your powers," she said quietly.

I choked on air. "My what?"

"Your powers."

"You want to see them because…" I trailed off.

"I showed you mine, now show me yours."

"Wanky."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "I want to see them. Stop stalling."

"You've already seen some of them," I stalled.

She shook her head. "I've never seen _you_ using your powers. Only Rumplestiltskin."

"We're the same person," I pointed out.

"Santana, come on."

I sighed. Holding my hand between us, I powered up and produced a small ball of energy in the palm of my hand. She reached out slowly and I pulled my hand back.

"You can't touch it," I warned. "It'll burn you."

She put her hands in her lap and I extended my arm again, making the ball bigger this time. It rotated slowly above my palm, casting a shimmering glow on our faces in the dimly lit room.

"I would've understood, you know," she said. "If you had told me."

I let out a humorless laugh. "You say that now, but that's because you know what's going on. What if you didn't have any idea about this stuff?"

"I would've tried," she insisted. "I would've tried to understand because you were my friend."

I frowned. "Were? I thought we were still doing the 'friends' thing, although I'm not sure how when you refuse to actually talk to me."

"I'm talking to you right now."

"Yeah, but you've blacklisted every topic that a friend would want to talk about."

She suddenly became super focused on making an organized deck from the scattered cards.

"Brittany, your dad was drunk today."

She dropped the cards. "We are _not_ talking about that. You're breaking the rules."

I threw my hands up in frustration. "So what kind of friendship is this then? The kind without feelings?"

"No, the kind with too many feelings," she said harshly.

I was a little taken aback by her outburst. My hands fell limply to my lap. If I had never given her sad puppy eyes before, I was certainly doing it now.

Her expression softened and she sighed. "Can you blame me for feeling a little guarded right now?"

"No, I'm just confused," I said. "You said you needed a friend and now you barely talk to me."

"I know," she said, wringing her hands in her lap. "I'm trying to keep you close because I want you and keep you at a distance because you hurt me at the same time. It's confusing for both of us and it's not really fair, but I don't know if I can do any better than that right now. You're waiting for me to tell you what's okay and how it's gonna be from now on and I just don't know."

"Not to derail the conversation, but did you just say that you want me? Present tense?"

Brittany blushed, meeting my hopeful stare with a sad smile. "I always want you, Santana," she said. "Even when I don't want to want you, I want you. So you don't have to worry about that."

I took her hand. "Knowing that you still want me makes me feel a lot less anxious."

"Then maybe you can calm down a little?" she asked. "I really do want you and I want to fix this, but I need-"

"Time," I said, "and space. I get it. I'm stressing you out. I'll calm down."

She smiled, relieved. "Thank you."

"Will you try to maybe bring your walls down a little?" I asked. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm unarmed."

"I'll try," she said, "but… I don't want to talk about my family today, okay?"

"Whatever you feel comfortable with," I assured her.

I squeezed her hand tightly as we sat in the silent room. Desperate for a subject change, I brought up the first thing that came to mind.

"Wanna hear about the time I blew off my thumb?"

* * *

><p>Sometime after midnight, we went back to David's room and took turns changing in the closet. Tina's pajamas fit me fine, but they were a little short on Brittany. I offered to trade my oversized Buckeyes shirt and a pair of shorts for her monogramed silk button-down and sweat pants, but she said she'd be alright. I sat down on the bed, slid under the covers, and waited patiently for Brittany to finish changing. I wasn't sure why I was waiting. A smart person would've pretended to be asleep after all the awkwardness and weird feelings that were going on between us. I wasn't a smart person.<p>

Brittany came out of the closet and part of me wanted to laugh at the fact that in a matter of days, sexual orientation had gone from Brittany's top concern to the bottom of the list.

As soon as she sat down on the bed, the whole thing started rocking from her shaking.

She blushed. "I can go somewhere else. You need to sleep."

When she started to get up, I reached out to her and opened my arms. "Come here. The cuddling helped last time, remember?"

She waved me away. "No, it's okay. I can't sleep anyway. I'll just go watch a movie in the rec room or something. Pop some popcorn and not eat it."

"Oh. Ok." I tried not to sound disappointed at the missed cuddling opportunity. "Well, I can only sleep for so long so if you want some company, I'll be up later."

"Ok, see you later," she called over her shoulder as she left the room.

_Time and space. Time and space. Time and space._

Since I was only going to sleep for three hours, I decided to get it out of the way. I snuggled up under the covers, alone in a gay man's bed.

* * *

><p>It happens to everyone. You're in the middle of a really deep sleep when all of a sudden, you sense that something's not quite right in the world. Then you wake up and the cat is licking your feet or your girlfriend is watching you sleep or your alarm clock isn't set and you're 45 minutes late for that Important Thing.<p>

I usually got that feeling when I overslept and Mercedes was standing over me with a pillow raised above her head, poised to strike. This time was different. It wasn't just my spidey-senses tingling. Something physical and weird was going on.

Somehow through the haze of sleep, I realized that I was charged up.

The fleeting thought jerked me into consciousness and my eyes snapped open. I'd never charged up in my sleep before, not even during the craziest of nightmares, so I was more than a little bit concerned. My eyes were casting an eerie glow on the ground. I was freaked the fuck out. Even freakier was the position I'd woken up in.

I'd fallen asleep on my side, watching minutes pass by on my alarm clock, but now I was standing in the hallway outside of David's room with my arms stretched out in front of me. My elbows were slightly bent and my fingers were flexing at random as my hands opened and closed around thin air. It wasn't hot, but I was sweating bullets. My shirt was practically glued to my chest and stomach and my hair was plastered across my forehead.

_How the hell did I get out here? I don't sleepwalk._

As my sleep-addled brain tried to run through possible scenarios, my leg swung forward, causing me to take an ungraceful zombie step down the hall.

_Um, excuse you, leg! You don't run shit around here._

I tried to take a step back, but instead, my other foot shot forward to match its twin. I tried to relax my arms, but the muscles and joints didn't budge. It wasn't until I felt the tingling wave of pins and needles running up and down my fingertips that I knew what was happening.

_Brittany._

I wasn't sure what she could possibly want from me, but it seemed a little rude to just summon my body instead of coming to talk to me like a normal person.

_I guess she did want a little company. We're gonna have to have a little talk about mind control etiquette. Lesson #1: I'm Not a Marionette._

I ambled down the hall like a coked-out Frankenstein, passing all of the bedrooms and finally coming to a stop in front of the rec room. Now that I was standing in front of the door, I didn't know what to do. My hands were still grasping at the air and I couldn't lower my arms to get to the doorknob. I also couldn't leave because my knees were locked. Brittany wanted me there, so that's where I had to be.

My right hand reached forward on its own, grasping the doorknob. The knob didn't turn. The door was locked. I couldn't knock and I didn't want to yell, but I didn't know how to let Brittany know I was waiting outside.

"Brittany!" I hissed, trying not to wake everyone in the building. "Brittany, open up!"

I tuned my superhearing into the room to see if Brittany was walking towards the door and my ears were met with the sound of theatrical moaning.

"Oh yes! Give it to me, mamacita! Harder!" a female voice cried out.

"Mmmm, you like the way I'm fucking you, no?" another woman replied in an incredibly fake accent.

"Yes, fuck me!"

_Holy shit!_

A few things became very clear in those few seconds:

1. Someone was watching a pornographic film.

2. A locked door indicated that I was, in fact, not invited to this party.

Unfortunately, mind control is a little bit persistent. If my arm was told to open the door, it was going to open the hell out of that door.

After all, what's a lock to the Incredible Hulk?

My wrist jerked again, harder this time, and I felt the lock snap.

"NO!" I whispered sternly at my body. "Don't go in there! Do _not_ go in there!"

It was like watching a horror movie. My arm pushed the door and it swung open, hitting the wall with a bang. Brittany was sitting on the couch in front of the big screen TV and sure enough, there was porn on the TV. Her back was to me, but when the door hit the wall, Brittany spun around. Even in the dark, I could see all the color drain out of her face. All the tingling in my body stopped. My arms fell limply to my sides and my knees buckled as control of my body was abruptly returned to me.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked. She bent over and started scrambling on the floor for something while the movie continued to play. On the screen, a Latina woman wearing a strap-on was rabbit-humping the crap out of a blond woman on an air mattress. It was probably the cheapest looking video ever made. Not wanting anyone to wake up and walk in, I closed the door behind me.

Brittany popped up from the floor like a Whack-a-Mole and stood in front of the TV with her arms spread wide, trying to block the large screen from my view. It wasn't working, and on top of that I could still hear everything. Brittany looked like she'd just run a marathon. She was out of breath and her clothes were in complete disarray. She'd missed at least three buttons on her shirt and her Victoria's Secret sweatpants were on backwards so that the word "PINK" was written over her crotch. She wore a single striped sock on her right foot while the other sock dangled out of her pants pocket in an almost accusatory fashion. She was shaking so badly that it was making me feel dizzy.

"Heeeeeey, Santana," she said, laughing nervously. "I thought you were supposed to be asleep."

"Oh fuck yes! Give it to me!" the blond yelled in the background.

"I'm a light sleeper," I answered, waiting for Brittany to acknowledge the porn. "So…what's going on in here?"

"Right there! Right there!"

Brittany tried to shrug nonchalantly, but it looked more like a muscle spasm. "Not much. I just popped in a movie."

"Oh really?" I almost bit through my lip to keep from laughing.

She looked down at an uncovered portion of the screen just as the shot changed to a close-up of a purple strap-on gliding in and out of a vagina. With a completely straight face, she said, "These must be the previews."

I couldn't hold it in. I burst out laughing. "Britt, are you serious right now?"

"Serious about what?" she asked innocently.

I walked over to the coffee table and picked up a DVD case. On the front, the blond was seductively holding a pair of maracas in front of the Latina's boobs.

I read the title aloud. "'Hot Tamale: A spicy girl-on-girl fiesta that will have you heading South of the Border'?"

"You mean this isn't The Lion King?" Brittany looked appalled, crossing her arms in fake outrage.

"Give it up, B," I laughed. "You're watching porn. Really, really terrible porn."

She hung her head in shame. "I was hoping that if I acted like it wasn't happening, you wouldn't say anything."

I sat down on the couch. On her way around the coffee table, Brittany accidentally kicked something with her foot.

"Oh _now_ I can find the stupid remote!" she grumbled. She stopped the movie and sat down next to me on the couch.

"Where did you even get this crap?" I asked, frowning at the DVD case.

"…Puck gave it to me," she admitted.

I slapped my hand over my face. "Seriously?"

"I went into the kitchen last night to get a glass of water and I was shaking so bad that I dropped the pitcher, the glass, the ice tray, everything. He said if you weren't going to help me out, then he would. So he let me go through his porn stash and told me to 'go crazy.'"

"And that didn't make you uncomfortable?"

"Tina was there, too. It sounded a lot less skeezy when she explained everything in medical terms."

"So this cinematic masterpiece was the winner?" I asked, turning the case over and inspecting the back.

Brittany grimaced. "Puck is into some pretty… different stuff. I didn't have a lot of options once I told him I wasn't into mythical creatures. This was the only thing in the humans-only section. When I saw the cover… well, the actress, she, um, looks kinda like… you. I thought I could ignore the rest, but it wasn't really doing anything for me."

I flipped the case back over. The Latina actress's name was Rosario Cruz. She did sorta-kinda look like me, if you squinted and turned your head to the side. We weren't twins or anything, but we could pass for relatives.

"She looks more like Nat, actually." I pointed at the girl's face. "She's got that Ramirez chin."

"Aaaaaaand now it's ruined." Brittany made a face, snatched the case out of my hands, and tossed it across the room.

"Of all the terrible things going on with this movie, _that's_ what ruined it for you? I'm surprised Rosario didn't just dress up as theTaco Bell Chihuahua and bark the theme song to Dora the Explorer."

"I know, I know," she groaned, rubbing her temples. "It's cheesy and it's offensive and it looks like somebody filmed it on a graphing calculator. I know."

She lifted her head, finally looking me in the eye despite her embarrassment. "This isn't my proudest moment, but if I don't do _something_, I'm gonna literally explode into a million pieces."

"It's really that bad?" I asked. "It's 'Hot Tamale' bad?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Energy is flowing everywhere, and I mean _everywhere_. All the time. I have to do something. I was two seconds away from popping in 'Land Down Under.'"

I pointed at the TV. "Well, I don't want you watching this low-rent nonsense. When we get out of here, I'll show you some high-quality erotic films. The really good stuff, not this trash."

"So, we're making plans to watch porn?"

I paused. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds weird."

"I don't really watch a lot of porn. I mean, Tommy liked it a lot, so he would always want it on in the background, but I'd just block it out and think about-"

She stopped, realizing that she wasn't just talking to me, she was _talking_ to me. And since sharing personal and private feelings was forbidden as long as I was outside the Circle of Trust, she quickly changed the subject.

"What are you doing in here, anyway?"

"I'd like to know the answer to that myself." I mimed my jerky Frankenstein movements from the hall. "You mind-controlled me in here."

Her face scrunched up in confusion. "I did? How? "

"I don't know how that works," I said. "Figgins said I do what you want me to do. Did you want me to come in here?"

"And catch me watching 'Hot Tamale'? No way!" She looked genuinely shocked and based on her reaction when I'd entered the room, I knew she hadn't done it on purpose.

"Were you thinking about me at all?" I asked.

In the dim light of the TV screen, I could see Brittany's face growing beet red. She looked down at her hands.

"I was," she admitted quietly.

"You were? What were you-" I suddenly understood what she meant and my mouth snapped shut.

"Oh," was all I could think to say.

Brittany covered her face with both hands.

"God, this has to be the most embarrassing night of my life," Brittany mumbled to herself. She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her up.

Wanting to spare us all any further shame, I stood up. "So now that we've solved that mystery, why don't I go back to bed and you can just, uh… finish up here and when I wake up we can watch the Lion King or something?"

"Ok, yeah," she said, keeping her hands over her face. "That's a great idea. I'll just swing by when I'm… done."

"Great!" I turned on my heel, eager to end this awkward situation for the night. "Oh! Britt?"

"Yeah?"

"Snap that DVD in half."

* * *

><p>"This is starting to get a little ridiculous," I said after I barged into the rec room for the fourth time.<p>

Brittany was still sitting on the couch. The TV was still on, but the DVD player was empty, so the screen was just blue and blank. Brittany sat up, breathing heavily, but didn't turn around. She'd stopped bothering to redress herself after the second time I showed up unannounced.

"Sorry," she panted. "Guess I did it again."

"I think we need to reevaluate our strategy," I said, flexing my fingers now that I had control of them again.

Brittany turned halfway toward me and put her arm across the back of the couch. Her breaths were shaky and I could see her shoulders heaving in the darkness.

"Every time I try and don't finish, it just makes it worse," she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "and if you go back to your room, you're just going to end up right back in here again."

_She pretty much just said she's not going to stop thinking about you while she touches herself._

_Wanky. Literally._

"So do you want me to stay here or…?"

"If you stay here… Santana, I can't turn off this mind control thing. I'm afraid of what I might make you do." I started to protest, but she continued. "I don't want to do anything that's going to make you uncomfortable."

"What if I was a willing participant?" I offered.

"You mean you would… help me?"

Once the offer was put out there in plain terms, it sounded a little weird.

"I don't have any better ideas," I said.

I couldn't tell because of the panting, but Brittany sounded relieved. "We don't even have to bring it up ever again if you don't want to. I'm going crazy here. My skin is crawling, my heart is always racing. It's too much."

As fucked up as things were between us, the last thing we needed to be doing was anything sexual.

_Honestly, what's the alternative?_

I felt like I had a little devil sitting on my shoulder, whispering horrible ideas into my ear that would only lead to trouble. Meanwhile, the space on my other shoulder was noticeably vacant. Everyone in my family has an angel deficiency. It's genetic.

_You're making a big deal out of this and it's not. You can help her without getting all emotional about it._

"Is that what you really want?" I asked.

"If I didn't, you'd still be in bed. Please, San."

She gave me the sad puppy eyes and I was a goner.

_You said you were going to be there for her. She needs you, so be there._

Wordlessly, I walked over and stood behind the couch. I looked down, ready to ask her what she needed, but the words died in my throat. Brittany's sweatpants were balled up on the floor by her feet. She was sitting there in her underwear and striped socks. Her fancy nightshirt was completely unbuttoned exposing smooth, pale skin all the way from her neck down to her panties. The round swell of sideboob was clearly visible as she leaned back and looked up at me.

"It'll be quick, I promise," she whispered.

"W-what do you need me to do?" I whispered back. I didn't know why we were whispering, but it made the whole thing feel that much more scandalous.

"Come over here."

I walked around the couch and her eyes trailed up and down my body. Seeing her sitting in the middle of the couch reminded me of the disastrous make out session at my apartment. As catastrophic as it had turned out, she'd enjoyed it while it lasted.

_Might as well go with what you know._

Instead of sitting on the couch next to her, I straddled her knees and sat facing her on her lap. Her breathing sped up and her hands reached out to hold my hips. I leaned forward to kiss her, but for the second time since I told her the truth about everything, she tilted her head and my lips landed on her nose. Sensing my disappointment, she kissed my chin tenderly.

"Not yet," she said. "I don't- let's not do that just yet."

I quickly moved on, resting my hand on her stomach and stroking her skin with my thumb. She shivered and bit her lip.

"What about this?" I slowly pulled Brittany's shirt open, exposing her breasts to the air. I'd held them before, but this was my first time seeing them and they were every bit as perfect as I imagined. "Can we do this?"

"Yes," she hissed. "Please, touch me."

Not wanting to prolong it anymore, I slid my hand up her stomach and cupped her breast. Her breath hitched and she put her hand on top of mine, kneading it gently and urging me on. I brushed my fingertips over her hard, pink nipples and trailed up and down the swell of her breasts with feather light touches. Her grip on my hips tightened and she whimpered softly as I teased her.

"San, come on. More, please."

My fingers tingled and moved themselves back up to her nipples. I took Brittany's hint and started slowly circling her nipples with my thumbs. She sank back against the couch cushions and let out a contented sigh. It dawned on me that this was the position my hands had been in when I had woken up under her control. I leaned forward and kissed her from her temple all the way down to her ear.

"Is this what you wanted?" I whispered, rolling a pert nipple between my forefinger and thumb. "Have you been thinking about this all night?"

She nodded fervently. "Yeah. I was thinking about- mmmmm, that night on the couch. When you touched me like this."

I circled the other nipple with my fingertip, just barely touching her. She pushed her chest out, trying to get more contact.

"And here I thought you were mad at me," I smirked.

"I _am_ mad at you," she groaned, "but you're still so hot."

I laughed softly against her ear. "At least I have that going for me." I looked down at my hands and took in the visual of holding and caressing her. I almost told her how beautiful she was, but I knew she didn't want to hear anything like that from me. "Do you think about me a lot?"

"All the time," she breathed.

_Holy sweet hell._

Now I was genuinely curious.

"Is this what you usually think about? Us on the couch? Like this?"

She shook her head. "You. Sitting on the bar in front of me."

"Naked?"

"No. Underwear."

"And what happens when I'm sitting on the bar in front of you?"

"You open your legs for me so I can," she groaned and grabbed my hips again, bucking up against me. "So I can taste you."

_4._

This time, I moaned. A pulse of energy ripped up the back of my head and shocked my system. It was pure, unadulterated pleasure. I let out an embarrassing grunt and my hips jerked forward. Brittany moaned loudly.

"Oh god. Do you feel that?"

I nodded, unable to speak as another wave crashed over me. Unfortunately, I also felt something else surge through me. It wasn't a pins-and-needles tingle like the one caused by Brittany's mind control. It was more of a dull burn and I knew what that meant.

"Fuck."

I let go of Brittany's breasts and put my hands behind my back. I couldn't see the look of disappointment on her face because my eyes were closed, but I could tell by the dejected whimper that she wasn't happy.

"What happened? What's wrong?" she asked.

"My powers. I can't touch you like this. I could hurt you."

"You won't hurt me," she said.

_I already have._

Another tingle spread through my hand. Without my permission, my hand pressed itself against Brittany's collarbone and slowly began to slide down her torso, getting lower and lower until it reached Brittany's pantyline. A knot of fear instantly formed in my stomach, causing me to power down.

_She can't be in control. Especially not when you're touching her._

I nipped her earlobe. "No, Britt."

"San, I need to-"

"You do it," I said. We locked eyes and with all the confidence I could fake, I said "Touch yourself."

Her cheeks flushed and her breathing picked up again. Wanting to rid her of any lingering hesitancy, I sat up straighter and looked right into her eyes.

"I want to watch you."

Without missing a beat or dropping my gaze, she moved my hand away and slid her own into her panties. She let out a long ragged breath and her eyes closed briefly before meeting mine again. True to my word, I watched her hand move inside her damp panties, listening to the slick sounds of her fingers sliding through her wetness.

"How wet are you?" I panted.

She held my hip painfully tight. "Soaked."

I shifted, trying to ignore my own arousal while I tended to hers. My heart pounded in my chest as she attempted to pull my sweatshirt up with one hand. She tugged it roughly and when my brain finally returned from its vacation, I reached down and pulled it off in one quick move, shivering as the cool air hit my sweaty skin. Brittany whimpered at the sight of me. Her eyes roamed over my naked breasts and stomach as she touched herself.

"Not wrong… It's okay… to want this. It's okay," she whispered so low that I could barely hear it.

_Even when I don't want to want you, I want you._

It made me wonder how many times Brittany had made herself come just like this, thinking about me, wanting me, only to hate herself and feel disgusted afterwards. How many times had she thought that it was wrong, that _she_ was wrong?

Her free hand roamed my body, sliding around my hip to briefly rub my ass and then making its way up my back, coming to rest between my shoulder blades.

"Oh god, I'm so close." Brittany's hand began to move in earnest. I could see her fingers moving underneath the fabric in tight, firm circles as she brought herself closer and closer to the edge. Her other hand pressed hard into my back and I sat up straighter, lifting my butt slightly off of her lap.

"What do you need, B?"

"I need… I need…" I could see that she was thinking too hard about something and it was taking her out of the moment. She was hesitating.

"Don't think about it. Just take it. Whatever it is, you can have it."

She let out a soft moan as she nodded. "Ok, ok, I'm gonna do it."

And suddenly, she was slouching and pushing me up. She leaned forward and when I felt the soft press of her lips between my breasts, the energy hit me again and a violent shudder went through my body as the pleasure ripped me apart.

_8._

"Oh _fuck_," I choked out. "Brittany!"

I slammed my hands down on the couch by her shoulders, gritting my teeth and trying to hold every ounce of energy inside me. Her warm, wet tongue slid against my skin as she dropped open-mouthed kisses all over the sides of my breasts. She nipped gently from my underboob all the way up to my bullet wound and gave it a gentle peck before taking my nipple into her mouth and running her tongue across it. I couldn't even form the words I needed to tell her to be careful. To explain to her that I was a ticking time bomb and she was lighting all the wrong fuses. I couldn't even be bothered to close my eyes.

Brittany blinked at the sudden brightness, and when she looked up at me, her breath hitched, her mouth fell open, and her head fell between my boobs.

"Santana!" she cried out. The sound was pretty much absorbed by my boob, but I could make out the word nonetheless. Every muscle in her body tensed and I could _feel_ the strange, pleasurable energy flowing between us as she came. She didn't move from that position until her orgasm was over.

When she finally came down, her shoulders slumped and she let her head fall back to the couch. Discreetly removing her hand from her underwear, she wiped her wet fingers on her nightshirt.

"Jeez," she breathed out. She kept her eyes closed, which was for the best because my eyes were still like floodlights. "Oh wow. That feels so much better."

There was not a hint of a tremor in Brittany's body. She looked exhausted.

_Looks like you can declare victory. Puck wasn't lying, Brittany's all better, no one had to watch Hot Tamale, and you didn't break the couch-_

During my internal awards ceremony, Brittany shifted again. She pressed her lips to my breast again, right over the bullet wound. Her hand slipped around my waist and as her fingertips dipped just below my waistband, she mumbled, "your turn."

In almost exactly the same way as it had the last time, the back of the couch snapped off of its frame and we both went tumbling to the floor. It was almost as shameful as it had been before, only this time instead of looking confused and frightened, Brittany looked slightly amused.

"That's actually pretty funny when I know why it happens."

"There is nothing funny about this. Another couch cut down in its prime."

"It was worth it. Are gonna do that every time?"

"No. In fact, I'm never going to sit on a couch with you ever again."

"That's too bad. I think the ending might be my favorite part."

"Oh hush."

We stared at each other for a moment as our small smiles faded. The differences between the last couch incident and our current position stared to become very apparent. Our mostly naked torsos were pressed together, our panties were ruined, and we knew too much. Once the haze of lust had been lifted and the urgency of the moment was gone, it didn't take long for the awkwardness to settle in. You know, the awkwardness that happens when you let a girl watch you masturbate.

"Did you want to…" she glanced down at my shorts.

"No, I'm fine," I lied. Just the effort it took to say that was worth an Oscar. I was practically throbbing, but as worked up as I was, I hadn't figured out how to not blow us up.

"Oh. Ok."

A number of emotions crossed Brittany's face as we laid there. The worst part of the whole thing was that I knew she wasn't going to talk to me about it.

"We should probably get to bed," she said.

"Oh. Right," I said stupidly. I rolled off of her and sat up.

She found my shirt and handed to me. I got myself in order while she retrieved her pants and turned off the TV.

"What are we gonna do about the couch?"

I shrugged. "Nothing. It's a chaise lounge now. Merry Christmas, McKinley."

Testing the waters a bit, I reached out to take her hand. She just stared at it blankly.

"Everyone's asleep. Humor me."

"It's not that." She put the hand I was reaching for into the pocket of her sweats. "I just don't want to use that hand."

She held out the hand that hadn't been buried in her panties and I took it. We walked down the hall in the dark, swinging our hands between us until we reached David's room. Without acknowledging the fact that we were doing so, we both went to separate corners of the room and changed our underwear. I finished first and slid into bed, expecting to us both to go straight to sleep. I was completely taken off guard when Brittany slid in behind me and assumed the role of Big Spoon. As if sensing my confusion, she whispered, "Just wanted to be close."

"No complaints from this corner."

Normally, cuddling after I had failed to orgasm would be absolute torture, but having Brittany hold me felt wonderful.

"Thank you for helping me," Brittany whispered.

I almost responded with "anytime," but I didn't want it to sound pervy, so instead I said, "You're welcome."

I turned my head so that I could almost see her in my peripheral vision. "Are you feeling weird about it?"

She didn't say anything and I sighed.

"I know, feelings-talk. Sorry."

It wasn't until fifteen minutes later when I was almost asleep that she spoke.

"I kissed your breasts and it was probably the hottest thing that's ever happened in my life. I'm trying to be okay with that."

I rubbed her arm. "I want you to be okay with that."

"It's just that I've never done anything that… gay before." She pressed her face into the back of my neck and sighed. "Physically."

"The emotional part of all this is pretty gay, Britt," I pointed out.

"Yeah, I figured that out a while ago," she said.

"And there's nothing wrong with that."

"I know." She let out a great big yawn and tightened her embrace.

"You know it here." I reached my hand back and rested it on her head. I took her other hand and pressed it against my heart. "You have to know it in here, too."

Her fingertips grazed my sternum and she dragged the backs of her fingers over my clothed breasts, lingering momentarily over my bullet wound.

"I love your boobs," she murmured. "They're amazing."

"They love you too, but if you don't stop touching them, I'm going to have a mental breakdown."

"Sorry." She yawned again. "You should've let me help you."

"No, it's okay. Helping you was enough for me. Besides, I don't know if I could take any more of that crazy energy exchange. Is that what happened the other day with Puck?"

I suddenly felt irrationally jealous. It wasn't like either of them voluntarily participated in it, but I still didn't like that he'd shared that with her.

"No, not at all," she said. "It was so much more intense with you. I've never felt anything like that before."

_Good. Let's keep it that way._

She yawned a third time, this time stretching hard as she did. "Wow. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was sleepy."

I shrugged. "Maybe you are. Rest for a bit."

Brittany snuggled up as close as she could and within a few minutes, she was snoring softly. After five days of being awake, Brittany was finally sleeping peacefully. I wasn't sure if it was all of the activity that had tired her out or what, but I was willing to take credit for it.

I snuggled further into her embrace, thrilled that she was actually holding me and scared out of my mind about what would happen when she woke up. I wasn't sure if this closeness and feelings-sharing was all afterglow or if Brittany was really going to open up to me again.

_What if she freaks out in the morning? What if she gay-panics? What if she feels like I took advantage of her? Is the economy so bad that people are really making porn on air mattresses now? Is that a thing?_

_What happens when she starts shaking again?_

Brittany's arm tightened around me.

"San, quit moving," she mumbled sleepily against the back of my neck.

_She wants to hold you tonight. Maybe that's all that matters for now. No sense in tossing and turning over it. Go to sleep._

"Goodnight, Britt," I whispered. She murmured something incoherent into my neck. I closed my eyes and let myself drift off, hoping that maybe, finally, things were starting to turn around.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** "Panacea" means "cure-all."

I realize I didn't address the whole mall incident, but that's coming. I wanted Brittany and Santana to get their feels out in the open.

I hope you didn't think that was 99 pages of shit, but I'm really interested in what people have to say about this chapter so yeah. Let's chat.

Credit for "premature hand lasers" goes to Stoic Last Stand :)

Fucking Super's birthday was on 3/30 and in case you missed my post about it, I love you all. You're all Fucking Super.

Until next time,  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


	15. Liar(s)

**A/N: ***Tibbs walks in four months later, waving awkwardly* Heeeeeeey guys…

If you don't read my tumblr, here's what happened: I wanted to post before June 19th because that would give me a few days to proofread and post before I went on vacation. I went on vacation for three weeks. I was writing parts of the chapter on my phone (no laptop) and surviving off of free (and usually shitty) Wi-Fi. So then I got back into town and had to catch up on almost a month's worth of the-world-didn't-stop-while-you-were-gone stuff. Now here we are. So thank you for being here right now. Thank you for being a friend. Traveled down the road and back again. Your heart is true. You're a pal and a confidant.

God, I love the Golden Girls.

Disclaimer: I own nada. RIB/Fox owns Glee. "Midnight Train to Georgia" belongs to Gladys Knight and the Pips.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15: Liar(s)<strong>

So, it kinda became a thing.

When Brittany woke up shaking the next morning, I "helped" her. When the shaking picked up again a couple of hours later, I "helped" her again. And again. And again.

Ten times.

It was silently understood that we weren't doing this for funsies. We were doing this so that Brittany could be comfortable and maintain some semblance of sanity. So if she wasn't shaking, we weren't taking our clothes off. She also understood that I needed to be on top, but there was really no rhyme or reason to how my body was going to react to her touching me. It was nerve-wracking.

Halfway through that first day, we'd gotten it down to a science. Brittany would lightly touch my elbow, make meaningful eye contact, and make her way to the bedroom. I'd wait a minute and follow behind, making some dumb excuse for why we were disappearing because Brittany was "hiding" our relationship from people who already just assumed we were together. No one ever really mentioned it. Brittany usually turned bright red when someone even hinted that we might be more than friends, so people eventually caught on and stopped bringing it up. Puck and Tina were the only ones that knew where we went when we disappeared every two or three hours. Puck had been teasing me about it since a shake-free Brittany had shown up to breakfast that first day.

I couldn't deny that our arrangement was extremely awkward. Brittany was still pissed off at me for lying to her and pissed off at herself for believing me, so she was struggling with that. I felt guilty and was still having problems navigating our current boundaries. "Helping" her was only complicating things. Unfortunately, there wasn't really anyway around it. Brittany needed to function so that she could train. She couldn't concentrate when her limbs were shaking uncontrollably. It was a necessary evil.

And when she came, when she had her momentary release from the fucked-up-ness of our situation and I didn't, it felt like a punishment.

* * *

><p>"Everything's gonna be fine," I whispered, stroking Brittany's cheeks with my thumbs the way she always did to me. "They've done this a bajillion times, B. You're in good hands."<p>

"I know, I know, I know," she said, doing a poor job of convincing me that she was fine.

Brittany had been freaking out since Figgins casually mentioned at dinner the night before that she was scheduled to get Juiced a few days early so they could ensure that there were no complications with the Goo wearing off too soon. Brittany vividly remembered waking up during her unpleasant Juicing four days earlier and she wasn't interested in experiencing that again. I'd asked everyone to leave the Juicing room when I realized that Brittany still wasn't ready. I was straddling her lap while she sat in her chamber, trying to calm her down.

"I'm scared, Santana," Brittany whispered. "It's loud and it hurts and there's no room and it feels like I can't breathe please don't make me do it _please_ Santana-"

I shushed her and kissed her cheek tenderly. We still weren't kissing on the lips.

"I'm gonna be here the whole time. You've got nothing to be afraid of, okay?"

"I promise I'll do it next week," she pled. "Can I just, I don't know, skip it this time?"

The image of Brittany lying comatose, hooked up to machines appeared in my head. My stomach lurched at the thought of her ending up like Quinn. That weird feeling, the one that I was trying really hard not to put a name to, caused my chest to contract painfully.

"No, you can't," I said too urgently. "You have to do it today." I pulled her into a hug and patted her back under the guise of comforting her when really I just didn't want her to see the look of panic on my face. She wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder.

"Do you think you can sleep?" I asked awkwardly.

Her body tensed up for a brief moment and she nodded without lifting her head. We both knew she could. The sex energy that we'd exchanged less than thirty minutes ago was quite tiring. Both of us had pretended that Brittany was shaking because of the energy in her body, not because she was afraid of getting Juiced again. I wasn't happy with myself for letting that happen. It would set a bad precedent.

A loud banging on the metal door startled us.

"Hey, guys?" Puck shouted. "I hate to interrupt your tea party, but some of us have _thangs_ to do."

"You don't have shit to do, Puckerman," I shouted back.

"Yeah, but Tina wants to go to bed so let's put some pep in our step!"

I sighed and looked into Brittany's eyes as she raised her head. "You gonna be alright in there?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Just give me five minutes to fall asleep."

I gave her another squeeze before standing up and stepping out of the chamber. "I'll give you ten minutes and I won't let them in until you're fast asleep."

She smiled at me as she slid down to lie flat on her back. "Thanks, San."

I gave her the full ten minutes, but she was asleep in three.

* * *

><p>There are two stages in the Juicing process.<p>

The first stage, Absorption, is the easy stage. The person in the chamber just absorbs the radiation from the Goo for a few hours. It isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it can be slept through.

The second stage is called the Fluxional stage, commonly referred to as Flux and even more commonly referred to as "one hundred minutes in Hell." The Flux stage is broken up into ten Stabilization cycles. Each cycle alters the environment inside the chamber for ten minutes to test the stability of the patient's vitals under certain conditions. Some of those conditions include extreme and rapid pressure or temperature changes. The cycles are also randomized with the exception of Cycle Five, which is always the hottest cycle. If you managed to sleep through the Absorption stage, you were definitely going to wake up during Flux. Maybe while all of that was going on, you would want someone to talk to you and keep your mind off of things.

Or sing.

"Oh she's leaving-"

"Leaving!"

"-on that midnight train to Georgia," I wailed, pouring out every ounce of Motown soul in my body.

"Leaving on the midnight train!" my backup singers chimed in, doing a 70s-style shuffle on the other side of the chamber.

"She said she's going back-"

"Going back to find!"

"A simpler plaaaaaace and time-"

"When she takes that ride, guess who's gonna be right by- oof!"

Himanshu tripped and fell on Puck, Puck tripped and fell on David, and they all landed in a heap on the floor.

I groaned loudly. "Seriously, guys? Seriously?"

Puck shoved Himanshu roughly off of him. "It's Baby Figgins and his two left feet!"

"You stepped on my foot!" Himanshu shouted. He looked at me and pointed accusingly down at Puck. "He stepped on my foot!"

David stood up and dusted himself off. "I believe it. He stepped on mine, too."

"Liar!" Puck cried, hopping up off the ground.

"Shut up! All of you! You're ruining it!" I hissed. I knew Brittany could hear us. I pointed at Himanshu. "You! Your singing is actually making me ill."

Puck laughed, but I quickly turned on him. "Puck, you dance like you shat yourself."

David eyed me warily, waiting for my criticism. "And you… actually, you're pretty decent. You keep forgetting to change the gender pronouns, though. Don't think I don't hear you."

"Well, excuse us, Simon Cowell," Himanshu grumbled. "You made us learn these songs _and_ all the choreography last night and you expect us to be good enough to hold a concert?"

"I expect you to not wipeout during every song. We're supposed to be Gladys Knight and the Pips, not Santana Lopez and the Three Stooges."

The sliding door behind me opened and Figgins walked in. He jumped at the sight before him.

"Oh! I didn't realize you had company," he said, looking from me back to the Stooges.

"Not anymore. I'm concluding this show right now," Himanshu said. "I've got to get back to my work."

I gasped. "We can't do the show with two Pips!"

David looked away guiltily. "Um… one Pip. I've got some things to get together for Brittany's training."

"Well, if you guys are bailing, I am too," Puck said. The three of them waved semi-apologetically as they walked out the door. Actually, Himanshu just glared at me, but whatever.

"This is so unprofessional!" I called after them. "You'll never work in this town again!"

Figgins looked at me like I was a crazy person.

"Ok… I'll keep this short then," he said. Someone had dragged a chair into the Juicing room at some point and he sat down in it, crossing his legs at the ankle. "I think it's time we had a frank discussion."

"Alright, Frank. What are we discussing?"

Tina walked in, crossed the room, and looked at the chamber's laptop.

"Just wanted to make sure that the last cycle ends properly," she said. "Then I'll be out of your hair."

Brittany had asked Tina to explain the Juicing process and the equipment to us in layman's terms. It was supposed to make us both feel more comfortable, but it only served to scare the living shit out of me because so much could go wrong. Luckily, Tina was sensed that. She somehow managed to be attentive enough to set my mind at ease while keeping enough distance so that I could be crazy by myself. Even though Brittany had already been Juiced and the guys had done it a million times without incident, I was terrified of the idea. No amount of reassurance from Tina could make the knot in my stomach loosen.

Tina hit a button on the keyboard and the laptop began to speak as text flashed across the screen.

"_Stabilization Complete. Chamber Number Forty Seven will open in 60 seconds."_

"You've got 58 seconds," I said.

Figgins cleared his throat. "As I mentioned when you arrived here, we need to discuss some things. One of those things is the mall incident. There are also some other items that Himanshu has brought to my attention recently."

"We could've talked about it earlier," I pointed out. "I haven't been doing a whole lot around here except... helping Brittany, um… train."

I wasn't sure if he knew what else we'd been doing, but if he did, he was polite enough not to mention it.

"I didn't want to overwhelm Brittany. You know how the first week of this major life change can be. It's important for her to focus on her training. These topics could prove to be upsetting and I would hate to hinder her progress."

"So what's the rush?"

"Some of these matters are time sensitive. I wanted to wait, but it seems we've stretched time as thinly as we can manage."

"You seem worried and it's freaking me out. You think that whatever we need to talk about is going to make Brittany upset enough to screw up her training?"

"Well…" He fidgeted, causing his leather shoes to slip against each other and squeak loudly. "It may be upsetting for both of you."

I frowned. "I'm going to start calling you 'the bearer of bad news' because that's what our relationship has become."

"That's fair," he sighed.

"Santana, you've got 10 seconds," Tina said, clicking around on the laptop.

"We'll have a meeting this evening after you return from the hospital," Figgins said as he stood from his chair. "It can't be delayed any longer."

I waved my arms at him, shooing him away. "Great, great, have your people call my people."

"_Process Complete. Door Opening."_

The chamber door swung open and Brittany sat up, looking completely disoriented. She climbed/fell out of the chamber, rolling over the side as she attempted to steady herself. She was shaking harder than ever.

Tina and I both stepped forward to help her, but she somehow managed to get to her feet and stumble out of the room without even looking at us. Numbing tingles shot up both of my legs and without warning, my feet propelled me forward, marching me out of the room.

"Oh for Pete's sake," I grumbled, helpless to resist the will of Brittany.

I saw Brittany ahead of me, all but sprinting down the hallway. She led us through the community spaces of the warehouse. Himanshu didn't even look up from his work. Puck was standing off to the side with a huge dumbbell in each hand. He stopped lifting when he saw Brittany power-walking with purpose.

"What up, B-Pizzle? How'd you like our- hey, where's the fire?" he called after her.

When he saw me jerkily following behind her, he started laughing.

"Nevermind," he snorted. "Carry on."

Puck and I knew exactly what was going on. He snickered as I passed by.

"Maybe we should've sung 'Afternoon Delight' instead."

"Oh shut up," I snapped.

We turned down another hallway and moved toward the back of the warehouse. Brittany darted into David's room and I arrived seconds later. As soon as I walked in and closed the door behind me, Brittany grabbed me by the collar of the shirt. I yelped in surprise as she fell backwards onto the bed, pulling me down on top of her. In a flash, her arm was around my waist holding me to her and her hand was snaking up my shirt to meet up with her two new friends. I flinched as her lips touched my neck. They felt like ice cubes.

"Holy shit," I gasped. "Britt, you're freezing!"

_The "extreme cold" cycle must have been last._

Brittany pulled back and frowned.

"S-s-sorry," she choked out. Between the shaking from the energy and the shivering from the cold, she could barely speak. "W-we don't have to d-do th-this if y-y-"

I shushed her. "It's fine. It's okay."

I rolled off of her and we both began to undress until we were both lying there in our panties. It was an unwritten rule that panties never came off. I didn't know how comfortable Brittany was with the idea of total nudity, but I didn't want to force the issue. I pulled the comforter over us and rolled halfway on top of her. The chill from her skin sent a shiver through me.

"T-too c-c-cold? Y-you sure you w-want-t-t-t-"

"Yeah," I said, agreeing to the question that was caught on her tongue. I kissed her chin and whispered, "don't worry. I'll warm you up."

It was supposed to sound sexy, but it came out really cheesy. Brittany pulled the comforter up past my shoulders, up around my neck, and then in an unexpected move, slipped under me and disappeared.

"Brittany? What are you- _oh!_"

Her ice-cold tongue slid over my abs and everything in my body clenched.

_4._

Using every spare brain cell I had left, I pushed myself up onto my elbows and knees.

_1._

"S-sorry," she said between tummy kisses. Her hands slid up and down my sides. She wasn't showing any signs of slowing down.

"S'okay," I whispered. "Just… some warning would be nice."

"C-c-can you lay on m-me? Y-you're s-s-so warm."

I usually held myself up on all fours or sat on Brittany's lap. Full body contact was not forbidden, but it did tend to set me off. At the same time, I wanted her to warm up quickly. I nodded, conceding to her request and she immediately pulled me down on top of her, pressing her lips to my breast. That was definitely Brittany's favorite part of my anatomy. Sure, her hands would wander to my stomach, my legs, my ass, but while that was going on, her mouth was on a never-ending quest to kiss, suck, and lick every part of my breasts. It was sweet, sweet torture. I couldn't let myself enjoy it the way I wanted to. I couldn't just let go. I'd probably go off like a bomb and kill everyone in a five mile radius.

Brittany nudged my nipple with her nose and I hissed at the contact. My nipples had been getting so much attention lately that they were starting to feel a little raw. I could've healed them and made them as good as new, but I couldn't deny the fact that I liked it a little bit.

She kissed her way up my boob and engulfed my nipple in her freezing cold mouth.

_5._

I gasped and closed my eyes at the relief and pleasure. Brittany hummed and sucked as she slid her hand up to cup my other breast, circling the other nipple with an icy fingertip. Brittany would be content to keep it up for as long as I let her, but I knew I couldn't handle too much of it. My job was to get Brittany to finish as quickly as possible because the longer it took, the more worked up I would get and the worse it would be to cool down later.

"Come on, Britt," I whispered. I stroked her arm gently. With the death of two couches on my conscience, I was afraid to touch her at all when I was charged up. I made sure to use the back of my hand. You can never be too careful with that kind of thing.

She released my nipple from her mouth with a pop.

"I c-could do that all d-d-day," she murmured into my skin. I grazed her elbow with the backs of my fingertips, imploring her to hurry because I was too charged up and too nervous.

_Am I ever going to get use to this? Will I ever not feel like I'm playing with a loaded gun while she's touching me?_

Brittany's body had started to warm up and I was grateful for that. Her hand snaked its way between us, slipping underneath her waistband and into her underwear. The vibrations from her shaky hand did not go unnoticed as she slid it under my body, grazing me where I wanted to be touched the most.

_8._

"Shit!" I squeaked, jerking my hips up and away from the pleasure/danger. Well, that's what I _meant_ to do. My hips had a mind of their own and decided to hump the back of Brittany's arm. Once or twice.

Brittany paused her movements and I couldn't see her face since it was smashed against my chest. I felt deep, heavy puffs of air leaving her mouth, but other than her breathing, she remained still.

"I didn't mean to do that," I explained hoarsely, forcing my hips away from her and raising myself up on all fours again. "Sorry. Reflex."

She remained silent, but scooted up the bed until we were eye to freakishly-glowing eye. Without a word, she grabbed my raised hips with her free hand and slowly pulled them down until I was pressed directly against the most gloriously unstable hand in America. It was everything I'd ever needed in this world.

My eyes closed at the contact. "Oh fuck. Oh my fuck."

"Does it feel good?" I could feel her eyes on me, but I could barely hear her over the sound of blood pounding in my ears. She was all warmed up now. In fact, everything suddenly felt very hot, but that might've just been me. The weird sex energy that flowed between Brittany and I slowly rolled across my brain and rational thought processes began shutting down.

"Yes," I panted, using every shred of will power in my body to still my hips.

"Do you like it?" She pressed the back of her hand harder against me and I could barely gather enough brain cells to respond.

"Britt, we can't. _I_ can't. You know that." My body was shaking as badly as Brittany's. I didn't open my eyes because I knew the look I would see there. We had done this many, many times and every single time, Brittany tried to get me to enjoy it the way she was enjoying it.

_You can't. You'll hurt her. You have to stop hurting her._

"Please, Britt," I begged. "Just finish, okay? It's too much. I want to, but I can't."

"You can," she whispered back. "Look how much you're shaking. You need it, too."

I didn't fight her as tugged at my leg, pulling it over hers as she positioned my hips. Then she hesitantly slid her quivering thigh right between my legs. I couldn't handle it. With a soft moan, I stopped resisting and fell against her body. Once I was snugly and firmly wedged against her, Brittany moved both her hands to my ass, urging me to move. I buried my face in her neck as I began to shamelessly grind against her strong thigh.

"Britt, fuck," I moaned.

_You can't get carried away. Be careful. Don't hurt her. Watch your hands._

I slid my hands as far away from our bodies as I could and pressed them into the mattress. Brittany saw the movement and pulled one of my hands toward her.

"You can touch me." The gentle pleading in her voice was hard to resist, but I knew my hands were dangerous and they didn't need to be anywhere near her when I was that charged up.

I shook my head. "No touching, B. It's not safe."

I used my arms to prop myself up. If I put all my body weight on my arms, she wouldn't be able to grab my hands. I opened my eyes to see if Brittany was upset about my unwillingness to touch her. She was quite the opposite. I had never seen Brittany look the way she did at that moment. Her expression was an odd mix of amazement and fear. I almost stopped what I was doing to ask if she was okay, but as I opened my mouth, the hand that was on my butt tentatively pulled down the back of my panties and began caressing my bare ass cheeks.

"I can _feel_ you on my leg." Her voice was husky and sexy in a way that I rarely got to experience. "Oh god, you're so- oh my god."

It dawned on me that while Brittany had become fast friends with my breasts, this was her first encounter with my vagina, or any vagina for that matter. There was no way that she couldn't feel how hot and wet I was through my panties, how much I wanted this. With one hand on my butt and one on my thigh, she began to move in time with the rolling of my hips.

"I wish you weren't wearing panties," she whispered. She was staring right into my glowing eyes as she said it even though I knew she would normally be blushing if she wasn't already so flushed. "I wanna feel everything."

I whimpered pathetically, too turned on and too charged up to manage anything else. Apparently, my grasp of the English language had evaporated entirely. The other energy, the sexual kind, was rushing straight between my legs and powering the movement of my hips. I don't think I could've stopped myself if I tried. The light behind my eyes seemed to be pulsing in time to our movements. Unable to think past the pleasure, I pressed my forehead against hers and closed my eyes. Brittany pulled at my arm, even though it was holding me up.

"Come on, San." She pulled my hand to her lips and kissed my palm. I moved my hand away and gripped the pillow.

Somehow, I found my words again. "Britt, I can't-"

I meant that I couldn't touch her or expose her to my palms, but I guess she thought that I meant something else.

"You can, just relax. Don't worry. I know what you like."

She shifted me slightly and tilted my head, baring my neck to her. Before I knew it, Brittany's teeth were scraping against That Spot and I was dangerously close to coming, dying, or imploding.

_9._

Suddenly, I smelled smoke.

_Either I'm having a stroke or something is burning._

I forced my eyes open. To my horror, the pillow next to Brittany's head was on fire. My hand had managed to ignite the pillow case. Every kind of energy in my body immediately dropped to zero as I yanked the pillow from under her head, grabbed the comforter, and beat crap out of the flames until they went out.

Brittany just laid there beneath me, looking bewildered as I caught my breath.

A wave of self-loathing and shame washed over me as I stared down at her. It was so intense that I felt slightly nauseous after it passed. My face and neck felt like they were on fire. My chest was tight and my muscles were tense. I wanted to sink right through the mattress and into the floor. The contents of my stomach were churning and I thought I might vomit.

_Way to go, freak. You could've killed her._

She looked from me to the pillow as a small smile appeared on her face. "That was hot."

I frowned at her joke, rolled off of her, and flopped down onto my back. "That's not funny."

_You can't touch her because it's dangerous and she can't touch you because you lose control. You're probably never going to be able to have sex. But you already figured that out, didn't you? You were just being irresponsible and putting Brittany's life at risk. No big deal, right?_

This wasn't my typical descent into the Dungeon of Feelings. Usually, I was armed with a few stiff drinks, Mr. Ziggles, and the comforting words of my best friend. No, this was falling down the Dungeon stairs and smashing into the cold, hard stone floor, sober and alone.

Brittany propped herself up on her arm and leaned into my field of vision. "San, are you okay?"

Brittany was not allowed in the Dungeon of Feelings.

"I told you about my hands," I said angrily.

"I know, I just thought maybe-"

"Well, you were wrong," I snapped. "I told you and you didn't listen and I almost charbroiled your head."

"You didn't hurt me. I'm fine. Not even a burned hair." She smiled again like she was trying to pressure me into smiling, too, but I refused. I was livid with myself and if she was going to insist on trying to make it okay, I was going to take it out on her, too.

"I'm glad you think this is funny. I'm glad you don't take your safety seriously."

She stroked my cheek softly, frowning when I moved my head away from her hand. "A certain somebody told me that we can laugh at things if we want to, even if other people think it's inappropriate."

I shook my head. "No. Not about this."

_I don't know whether to be happy that she actually listens to me or annoyed that she's using my own words against me._

She moved her hand from my face down to my exposed ribs. I squirmed as she ran the backs of her fingers up and down my side, repeatedly passing over a spot that made my knees weak. She'd kissed that area enough times to know.

She waited for me to make eye contact again before speaking. "I'm really sorry, Santana. I should have listened to you. I just really wanted you to… to finish this time."

"Look, it's fine, B. Don't worry about it." I yawned and stretched, trying to end the conversation. Sex energy usually made me really sleepy, but there was too much leftover adrenaline in my body. I just wanted to roll over and sulk.

"It's not fine," she insisted. "I mean, we never really talked about what happens when you get worked up. I guess I wasn't taking it seriously when you broke the couch, but I didn't even think about your beams. God, you must be _terrified_ when you touch me. Or when I touch _you_."

Her eyes widened like she was having some kind of epiphany and I shrank away from her.

"San, why didn't you tell me? We keep doing this over and over. You never said you were scared."

She was looking at me like I was a science experiment that she just figured out and I hated it. My already volatile emotions were threatening to surface.

"I'm not scared. Now please," I pleaded, "drop it."

"San, you don't have to be embarr-"

_No._

Brittany was trying to understand and she'd been able to quickly figure me out. She was trying to join me in the Dungeon, but I couldn't allow her to see that part of me, the parts of me that even I couldn't stand to look at. So I did what I do best. I lashed out.

"You know what?" I snapped. "Maybe I'm not scared. Maybe I'm just tired of being your little vibrator all the time. Did you ever think of that?"

All the color drained from Brittany's face. She looked stricken. "I… I didn't know- you said you wanted to help. You never said-"

I gave a nonchalant, single-shoulder shrug. "It's not like I have much of a choice, what with the mind-control and all. Might as well comply. It just gets a little old when I get the hooker treatment. I mean, you won't even kiss me."

She opened her mouth and closed it a few times. She couldn't find the words to combat my asshole-ishness.

I rolled over. "I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me up when it's time to go to the hospital."

We both knew I wasn't capable of sleeping that long, with or without sex energy, but Brittany didn't argue.

"Okay," she said quietly before laying down on her side of the bed.

The room was silent for a while. After a few minutes, Brittany rolled onto her side like she normally did and wrapped her arm around my waist, spooning me from behind. Somehow, that made me feel even worse.

* * *

><p>"So they take the sheet down and they show everybody that big clown head for the first time. And everybody's ooh-ing and ahh-ing. I look over and Santana's eyes are all big and she just goes 'he's a <em>clown?<em>'"

Every time Mercedes says "he's a _clown_," she bursts out laughing. It doesn't matter when or where or who the audience is. She will tell that stupid story to her trouty-mouthed grandkids and they won't even get it, but she'll be laughing the whole time.

This time was no different. I glared at her because I hate that story and I hate the way she tells it. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop her because Brittany was hanging off of her every word. We were all sitting on my hospital bed. I was sitting at the head of the bed while Mercedes and Brittany were squished in at the foot.

"And then," she said, barely able to get the words out because she was laughing so hard, "she flips out. She ran to the food court and hid under this big table with all these old people around it. So Abuela's trying to get the people to push Santana out from under it and Santana's screaming 'the clown is gonna eat me, the clown is gonna eat me!'"

"Oh no, poor baby," Brittany said, trying desperately not to laugh while I was pouting.

She rubbed my socked foot and smiled at me, letting loose a few giggles while trying to appear sympathetic. I was learning new things about Brittany every day and that day I learned that Brittany is really good at pretending everything is fine. She had been giving me forlorn looks while we were alone, but as soon as Mercedes had come through the door, she turned on her smile. I could see the worry around the edges, though. She thought I was mad at her, but in reality. I was still raking myself over the coals for almost killing her. For the sake of everyone's sanity, I was trying to get past it, but I just couldn't let it go.

"Yeah, I freaked out, much to Mercedes's eternal amusement," I yawned and slumped back against my pillow.

"I deserve to laugh at it now," Mercedes said defensively, "because it sure as hell wasn't funny when it was happening!"

"Well, you got ice cream and chocolate cake out of it, so let's not act traumatized."

Brittany was beaming. "Tell me another story," she said eagerly.

Mercedes's eyes twinkled devilishly. "Hmmm, which one should I tell? I have _millions_."

"No!" I pointed at Mercedes's face with one hand and stifled another yawn with the other. "Story time's over for today."

Mercedes had already told the story of how I dropped Mr. Ziggles in the mud while we were playing at her aunt's house and tried to wash him in the dishwasher… with regular dish soap. Fiona, who was supposed to be babysitting us at the time, got in huge trouble and the three of us had to clean up the sea of suds in the kitchen.

"Santana, don't be like that," Mercedes pouted.

I matched her pout with my own. "You always tell the bad stories that make me sound stupid or spoiled."

"I think you sound adorable," Brittany said softly. "I would've loved to have known you back then."

"She was entertaining," Mercedes said. She eyed me as I yawned again. "But right now, it looks like she needs a nap."

"No, I don't." Another yawn broke free just to spite me.

"Yeah, you do. You're being a Grumpy Gus today." Mercedes got up from the foot of the bed and waved her hand at me. "Scootch."

I "scootched" over for her and she sat down next to me, opening her arms wide. I didn't move.

She looked at me expectantly. "Well? Come on, you know you want to."

I grumpily scooted down and leaned my head on her ample bosom. My body was familiar with this routine and my eyes instantly began to close. I was helpless to resist. If there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that Mercedes gives good nap. She was all soft curves and warmth, and she had been providing me with high-quality cuddles for years and years. I'd told her on more than one occasion that the Tempur Pedic people should seriously consider making a line of pillows modeled after her boobs. I would be first in line to buy one and I'd order one for every person I knew. Once my head hit her chest, it was over.

She used to be my favorite naptime cuddler, but Brittany took over the top spot. There was something about the way that Brittany's hips fit snugly against my butt as she spooned me, the almost possessive way her hand rested on my stomach or my hip, the way her legs ended up tangled with mine, the way she'd mumble incoherently against the back of my neck. It stirred something in me, the parts of me that wanted to feel claimed. It wasn't the same as lazily draping myself over my best friend.

I don't know how long I was asleep, but sometime later, I was awakened by movement. A slight jiggle of Mercedes's boob slowly pushed my foggy, sleepy brain toward the unwelcome world of consciousness. It took a few seconds to register it in my brain, but someone was talking.

"I don't even think we'll have to wait that long," Brittany said, her voice hushed to keep from waking me. Mercedes's hand was positioned strategically on top of my head, gently rubbing and scratching my scalp. This was a well-known technique to calm me and help me go to sleep. At the other end of the bed, there was a hand wrapped around my ankle, presumably belonging to Brittany. Her thumb traced small circles on my skin. It was all too soothing and it really was making me sleepy.

"Really? You think this guy will be back that soon?" Mercedes asked.

"I was hoping he'd wait until Quinn woke up, but I don't think that will happen. He wasn't afraid to hurt Quinn at the mall, so maybe it doesn't matter to him whether she's awake or not. Maybe he'll come after her anyway. I have to be prepared for that."

"How? How are you gonna be prepared? These guys are too dangerous, Brittany. Even Mr. Finntastic isn't trying to mess with them. Word on the street is that he's in hiding."

"Well, he certainly wasn't looking for his missing girlfriend and he isn't visiting her in the hospital so he better be hiding," Brittany said angrily.

"He did get his ass beat in a supersuit," Mercedes pointed out. "I think I'd be a little scared to come outside, too."

"If I were him and I found out that the girl that I love was missing, I would be doing everything I could to find her."

"And you did."

There was a beat of silence. Brittany's thumb stopped moving and her hand gripped my ankle tightly.

"I-I-"

"You did everything you could to find Santana," Mercedes stated simply.

Brittany cleared her throat and I felt my foot going numb as she cut off my circulation. "I-I-I'm… I'm not-"

"I didn't say that you were anything. It's true, though. You love her."

"Mercedes-"

"I didn't say what kind of love," Mercedes huffed. "You love Judy, right? You love Quinn and your sisters and your dad. And I know you love me because you were at my house every day while Santana was gone, making sure I was taking care of myself, making sure that Sam was taking care of himself, and making sure that we were taking care of each other. You showed me love and you barely knew me. And that's all because of the love you have for Santana. Now, only you know what kind of love that is, but don't tell me it's not there. Nobody sings like you did at the vigil for somebody they don't love."

Brittany didn't say anything and Mercedes sighed.

"Lord, I swear you two are the same person sometimes. She used to do the exact same thing. Deer in headlights, all red-faced. Well, as red as she can get. Breathe, girl. You look like you're gonna catch fire."

Brittany inhaled sharply and her hand squeezed my ankle even tighter.

_Good thing I'm not actually asleep because this ankle crushing would've woken me up._

"I didn't mean to get you all riled up," Mercedes said as Brittany caught her breath. "I know when to stop. I'll drop it."

No one spoke for a few minutes and Mercedes went back to scratching my scalp. When Brittany finally broke the silence, I could barely hear her voice over David/Quinn's life-support machinery.

"I'm… I'm not sure how to feel."

Mercedes shifted a little, sitting up straighter. "Oh?"

_That definitely would've woken me up, but since I'm faking it, I'll let it slide._

"So many things have happened and things aren't really great between us right now," Brittany mumbled.

Mercedes sighed heavily. "What did she do this time? Actually, you know what? Don't even tell me. I'm just gonna go off on her if I find out what it is."

Brittany hesitated briefly before continuing. "She, um, she wasn't up front about something important and now… there's a trust issue. Now I feel like I have to question everything she tells me. And she's been trying to fix that and trying to get me to let her in, but today when I tried to get _her_ to let me in, she freaked out."

"Oh, that's why she's being so moody today. I knew she was in her feelings about something." The movement of Mercedes's fingers slowed. "I know exactly what you mean. As weird as it sounds, I'm probably not the best person to help you."

"But you're her best friend," Brittany said.

"And I know this girl like the back of my hand, but I've never figured out the trust issue. Santana lies to me all the time and I just kinda let her do it."

My body went completely rigid. I could tell by the way her fingers stopped moving that she knew I was awake.

"She's not a compulsive liar or anything like that," Mercedes clarified. "I know she doesn't do it just for fun. She doesn't even do it to get out of trouble. She lies when she doesn't want to be a burden to me or when she thinks my opinion of her is going to change. I think if she had it her way, I still wouldn't know that she's gay."

The pressure on my ankle finally loosened as Brittany leaned forward. "Why? You're completely fine with it!"

"Rational people understand that, but not Santana." Mercedes turned her head and I knew she was speaking to me rather than about me. "I love her to death, but she's so guarded that even after all these years, she's still afraid that I'll just pick up and leave. Whenever something happens, she's always worried that 'uh-oh, _this_ is going to be the thing that ruins everything.'"

"You guys have probably been through a lot together. What else do you need to do to convince her?"

Mercedes shrugged. "I don't think there's anything I can do. I can't make her trust issues go away."

"Does it bother you that she feels like she needs to lie to you?" Brittany asked.

"I used to get mad, but not anymore. I just decided that if she needed time to tell me something, I'd give it to her. It's not the best situation, but that's our relationship."

"I don't think I could handle that," Brittany said. "I was in a relationship with someone who lied to my face all the time because he thought I was too stupid to figure out what was going on. I just let him do it because I didn't think I could do any better. But I don't want those kinds of relationships with people anymore. I need honesty."

"Well, if you need honesty from _her_, let her know that the lying isn't going to fly with you. I never really put my foot down like that. She's a terrible liar, though. I don't think she knows that I can _always_ tell. I usually don't call her out on it unless it's important because… well, you probably know. When you found out that she lied, did she get all clingy and needy, like a puppy?"

"Well, yeah," Brittany admitted. "It made me kind of uncomfortable… is that normal?"

"For her it is. When Santana gets scared, she either clings or pushes. She needs to know where she stands at all times. So whenever she gets like that, just reassure her. Let her know that you care about her and that you're not going anywhere. That's what she's worried about and if you tell her upfront, it calms her down."

It was kind of scary to realize that Mercedes knew things about me that I didn't know about myself. She knew exactly how to talk me down off of a ledge.

_This girl has been mind-fucking me for years and I didn't even know it!_

"She's calmed down a lot. We talked about it because I didn't really know how to handle it. I felt like there was a lot of pressure on me to hurry up and decide how I felt about things." Brittany started rubbing my ankle again. "How did you figure all of this out?"

"Years and years of practice. You can call me Encyclopedia Santanica."

They both laughed and I rolled my eyes behind my eyelids.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Brittany said. "I'll be right back."

Brittany's weight lifted off the end of the bed. I listened to her footsteps as she crossed the room and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"So now you know," Mercedes whispered.

"Know what?" I whispered back. "That you think I'm a liar?"

She sighed. "No, but you do lie, so don't act insulted. Now you know that you can have something real with Brittany. You just can't be the same way with her that you are with me." She started to rub my scalp again. I hummed softly as she rubbed my back with the other hand.

"Stop that," I mumbled. "I wanna be awake."

"Go back to sleep," she whispered. "You shouldn't be eavesdropping anyway. Grown-ups are talking."

My body was all too ready to comply with her request.

_I'm too easy. I'm like a freaking pet._

I fought the lull of sleep, opening my eyes and tilting my head up to look at her. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know."

"And you know that I wouldn't lie to you if I didn't think it was the right thing to do, right?"

"I know you think that, but you don't need to lie to me. You never had to."

The thought of losing people I loved terrified me. Mercedes had been the only constant in my life for so long and I had become accustomed to doing anything short of murder to keep her with me. Lying was a big part of that, but it was hurting her.

I swallowed hard. "I'll stop lying. I will. I mean it. Can you just- ugh." I wiped at the tears threatening to fall from my eyes, frustrated with myself. "Can you promise me you won't leave? Because I don't think I could handle that."

She smoothed down my hair and smiled sadly as my eyelids fluttered closed. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you I'm not leaving you before you start to believe it."

I was knocked out before Brittany came out of the bathroom.

* * *

><p>I woke up to the sound of singing. When I cracked my eyes open and saw Rachel's head, I wasn't surprised. Rachel snuck in at the end of visiting hours to escape the wrath of Judy. No matter how close she cut it, she always managed to get a song in.<p>

She was sitting by Quinn's bed with Brittany and they were both holding one of "Quinn's" hands. I didn't recognize the song, but Berry was conjuring up all sorts of Streisand vibes. When she finished, she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, letting her whole body deflate. She stayed like that, slumped over and motionless for a full thirty seconds.

Brittany smiled. "That was really good, Rachel."

Rachel slowly regained use of her spine and sat up straight in her chair. "Do you think so? I hope it's helping. The power of music has been shown to have healing effects in the comatose. Coupled with my highly-trained vocals, the effects should be doubled for Quinn."

_If only that were Quinn._

Brittany's smiled faded. "Yeah, let's hope so."

Rachel glanced in my direction, doing a double-take when she saw that I was awake. "Santana! I hope my singing didn't wake you."

"It's okay. I needed to wake up anyway."

Himanshu walked in, dressed in his Transformers scrubs. "Ms. Berry, visiting hours are ending in fifteen minutes," he said with a sheepish grin.

It was becoming apparent that Himanshu had a crush on anything producing estrogen. He hadn't so much as batted an eyelash at Brittany, though. It was implied that I would cause him great bodily harm if he even thought about it.

And by "implied", I mean "explicitly stated."

"Thank you, kind sir." Rachel threw him her warped version of a sexy smile. It was little gross to watch them flirt. Even Brittany made a face.

Rachel picked up her purse off of the floor. "I should probably leave now so that Finn has a chance to pop back in."

I thought I heard her incorrectly. "Who?"

"Finn," she repeated. She picked up the sheets of music that were strewn about next to Quinn's bed. "He was downstairs getting ice cream again."

"…again?"

"He's always getting ice cream in the cafeteria when I get here. Whenever I sing in hospitals, I like to get an orange from the cafeteria first. The extra Vitamin C boosts my immune system so that I don't catch-"

"So you're saying you saw Finn Hudson in this hospital?" I clarified.

She nodded cheerfully. "Of course! Today, yesterday, and the day before."

"That's funny because-"

"He said he was going to get ice cream on the way home," Brittany interrupted, shooting me a look. "Guess he couldn't wait. Silly Finn."

"Boys," Rachel laughed.

Himanshu laughed too. "Yeah, boys."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You have absolutely no game."

Once Rachel was ready to leave, we cheerfully waved her off until we were sure she was down the hall.

"Silly Finn?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Rachel doesn't need to know that Finn hasn't visited Quinn," Brittany explained, "but if it's okay with you two, I'm gonna go down to the cafeteria and give him a piece of my mind."

My stomach clenched.

"Are you going to make a scene?" Himanshu asked. "Please don't get me in trouble with Uncle Raj. He'll take Optimus Prime away!"

I sat up fully in bed. "Maybe you shouldn't go looking for him. There's no way that he doesn't know where Quinn is by now. If he's coming all the way to Columbus and not taking the elevator to come up here, there's probably a reason."

Brittany frowned. "But I really, really want to yell at him."

"In due time, B. For now, let's lay low. Visiting hours are almost over anyway. They're not going to let him up here today."

The muscles in my stomach relaxed and I leaned back against my pillows. Something about Finn Hudson was very, very odd. Until I figured out what it was, I didn't want Brittany going anywhere near him.

* * *

><p>As soon as we got back, I grabbed Brittany's hand and practically dragged her to the back of the warehouse.<p>

"Come on," I whispered. "I don't want to go to this meeting. If we're quick enough, Figgins won't be able to corner us"

We turned down the hall to go to David's room and Figgins literally popped out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of us. I jumped about a foot in the air and Brittany tripped and ran into my back.

"I hope you all had a pleasant afternoon," Figgins said way too cheerfully.

"Where the hell did you come from?" I asked, slapping my hand over my racing heart.

"Mumbai, originally."

"Thank you, Dr. Smartass."

"If you'll recall, you agreed to meet with me after your hospital visit."

"I didn't agree to anything," Brittany pointed out.

"Unfortunately, this technicality changes nothing, Ms. Pierce. You'll still need to be in attendance."

"Do I have to?" Brittany asked sweetly.

"Yes."

"Are you _sure_?"She batted her eyelashes at him.

I made a face. "Ew, Brittany. He's like, elderly."

"I am most certainly not elderly," Figgins said defensively, "and yes, I'm sure."

"Can we at least have a second to powder our noses?" I asked.

He waved us away toward the bedroom. "Yes, of course. We'll be waiting for you in the meeting room."

He strode down the hall and we went the other way, walking into David's room and locking the door behind us. Brittany went over to the closet and pulled out some clothes. I eyed her discreetly, unsure of what to do. Normally, when we got back from the hospital, it was time to do our "thing." After what I said that morning, I was pretty sure she wasn't interested in trying again. But she had started shaking before we even left the hospital and it was only getting worse.

"I'll change out here," she said. "You can use the bathroom if you want."

"Ok." I hesitantly approached the bathroom door. "Um… I didn't know if you wanted to, uh-"

"I'm alright," she said quickly. We briefly locked eyes, but I couldn't for the life of me decode the look on her face. "I'm fine, San. Go change. Figgins is waiting."

I walked into our small bathroom, grabbing some clothes on the way.

_You've gotta let her know that you didn't mean what you said earlier._

My shoulders sagged as I took off my shirt. I really didn't want to have that conversation.

It just so happened that I looked in the mirror as I took off my bra to change into another one. I couldn't even put my finger on it at first, but I could sense that something wasn't quite right. My eyes searched my reflection until it dawned on me. Slowly, Mirror-Me raised her hand to her breast. Missing from my skin was the dark brown scar that was left behind when I healed my bullet wound. It wasn't faded or smaller. It was just gone.

I looked up at my reflection, then down at my boob. Up at my reflection. Down at my boob.

"Where the hell did it _go_?" I asked myself.

"What? What did you say?" Brittany called from the bedroom.

"Nothing! Just, uh, just a sec!" I speed changed into my clothes and walked out of the bathroom.

Brittany's back was facing me. She was standing with her hands behind her back and her shoulders raised. It looked like she was holding her breath.

"You alright, Britt?"

She let out the breath she was holding and spun around quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're not shaking," I observed. "Did you just…"

"No," she said quickly. "You've only been gone for like, two minutes."

She didn't look like she'd just masturbated. I knew what Brittany looked like after an orgasm.

_Is it weird that I know that?_

"If you didn't do that, then what did you do?"

She looked down at the floor. "You know those little strings that I see on everything? Well, muscles have strings, too. They're super small and kinda hard to find, but they're there. If I tighten them enough, I won't shake."

My mouth dropped open. "So you're literally holding yourself together? Brittany-"

"It's working. Come on, let's go." She turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>The meeting room was the only place besides the kitchen with a big enough table to for everyone. Figgins had neglected to mention that his "frank discussion" was a family affair. He and Puck were already seated when we got there. Between them sat a hooded figure, head bent to obscure his face. I would've been creeped out, but I'd seen this figure raiding the fridge in the middle of the night enough times to know it was Ben. Ben rarely left his room during the day. According to the others, that was typical behavior for him when he wasn't Juiced. He didn't want to be seen.<p>

Tina, David, and Himanshu sat down as soon as we walked in. Brittany and I took the last two seats that were open.

"I'm glad you all could make it," Figgins said. "We have some pressing issues that need to be discussed."

"Such as?" I asked.

"There are some decisions that need to be made with regards to Kurt Hummel," Ben said. I hadn't heard him speak since he told me to get out of his room, so I was a little startled. "We need to know what's going on in his head. Perhaps you two can shed some light on that."

"Um… ok?" Brittany responded uncertainly.

"We're still not sure of what he was doing at the mall," Figgins said. "We thought you might be able to give us some insight on his motives and current objectives."

We spent the next twenty minutes relaying what we could remember from that day in as much detail as possible. There were some nods and puzzled looks from around the table. At the end of our tale, Himanshu placed a large metal ring on the table. It was the collar from Finntastic's super suit. There was a huge crack in it and a burn mark from where my eyebeam hit it.

"All of that hard work and now that suit in never going to work again," he muttered. "Why do I even bother?"

"Really?" Brittany asked. "That's all you have to do to break that suit?"

Himanshu turned the collar around so that the crack was facing us and pulled the crack open wider. "The collar itself isn't important, but the stuff inside of it is. This circuitry controls everything. Without it, the suit is scrap metal. I don't understand why Kurt would take the collar when he could've just yanked Finntastic out of the suit and stolen the whole thing."

"He didn't want the whole thing," Brittany pointed out. "Just the collar. I remember him saying that he used to want one of those suits, but it looked better on Finn."

"He did," I agreed. "He said he was there to get some things that were 'rightfully his.' The collar and Quinn. When I broke the collar, he was definitely pissed."

"Quinn?" Himanshu asked. "What's she got to do with anything?"

"Kurt loves going after friends and family." I scowled, remembering his threats toward Brittany and Mercedes. "Quinn's dating Finn, so Kurt probably considers her fair game."

"He was going to take both of us because he didn't know which one of us was the real Quinn," Brittany said.

"Ok, so maybe that part makes a tiny bit of sense, but what does stealing the collar do for Kurt?" Ben asked.

"Not much besides ruining the suit," Himanshu said. "The suit is useless unless he gets this exact collar back or gets a replica. Even if he did, the Coin is damaged beyond repair."

"What's a Coin?" Brittany asked.

Himanshu grinned. "Only the most advanced super suit technology known to man. The latest and the greatest, miles above the rest, the most epic-"

"Let me guess," I interrupted. "You invented it."

"Not to brag or anything, but yeah. It was all me." He pulled a small metal disk out of the collar and held it between his fingers. It was pretty badly burnt. "The Coin is the brain of the super suit. Everything in the suit talks to the Coin. Nothing happens without the Coin's permission."

"So Kurt stole Finn's brain and Santana accidentally destroyed it," Brittany summarized.

"It's not completely destroyed." Himanshu turned to Puck. "Here, let me see yours."

Puck pulled a thin chain from around his neck. It was so thin that it hid neatly under his shirt and you couldn't even tell he was wearing it. Hanging from that chain was a black medallion. He swiped his thumb rapidly across the medallion, and dropped it into Himanshu's open hand.

"Pull up the diagnostics, please?"

Puck rolled his eyes as if he were doing Himanshu a big favor, leaned over, and barked directly at the medallion. "Suit status!"

"They're voice activated," Himanshu said to Brittany and I. To himself he mumbled, "although you don't have to yell at them."

A bright light began to glow from the medallion's center as it projected words, numbers, and images into thin air. In the center of the display, the 3D-image of a silver football uniform rotated slowly for us.

"That's _your_ suit," I said stupidly to Puck.

"This is Puck's Coin," Himanshu explained. "His suit is specially designed for him. In the heat of battle, he's got every bit of information he needs."

"Why is his Coin so big compared to the other one?" Brittany asked.

Puck wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You know what they say about guys with big Coins, right? They have big-"

"You're making me uncomfortable," Brittany said flatly.

Ben and David snickered while Puck sat there with his mouth hanging open. Tina just shook her head like the parent of an unruly child.

Himanshu smirked, but managed not to lose his composure. "The Coin is inside this protective case. I'll switch them out so you can see." He handed the medallion back to Puck, who dutifully swiped his thumb across it in what I now recognized to be a specific pattern. Himanshu opened the medallion, revealing a small silver Coin just like the one from Finn's collar. He popped Puck's Coin out, replaced it with Finn's damaged Coin, and closed the medallion again.

"Master override," Himanshu said, ten times quieter than Puck. "Suit status."

The medallion whirred to life again, but this time the images that it produced where straight-up terrible. Words and numbers were scrambled. The 3D image of the Finntastic super suit flickered wildly. Only the legs of the suit were visible.

"As you can see, this Coin has been severely damaged." Himanshu opened the medallion again, swapped the Coins, and handed Puck's stuff back to him. "I'm tempted to repair it, but if I leave it broken, there's no chance of it getting back into that suit."

"Why wouldn't you want the suit to work?" I asked.

His expression darkened. "To be quite frank, I'm sick of people joyriding in my freaking suit. JBI stole it, so Finn can get him to rebuild this Coin from scratch. If you can't fix it, then you don't deserve to have it."

"This isn't particularly helpful in figuring out Kurt's next move," Figgins said. "He's undergone the SNIX process and is quite powerful now. He doesn't even need a suit. The fact that he even bothered trying to steal the Coin doesn't make much sense."

"Maybe he's interested in the technology," Himanshu suggested.

"I doubt it," Ben said.

"What we need to be worried about is the fact that he's got a shit ton of premium Goo and an army of gorillas in plaid just waiting to be SNIX'd," Puck said. "We've never really fought other people with 'super powers' before and it shows because we got our asses handed to us at the mall. Can you imagine a hundred fucking Amalgamons running around? _That's_ what we need to be focused on."

"Amalga-who?" I asked.

"An Amalgamon," Figgins said. "In the beginning of the McKinley project, we began to take note of the abilities that the participants developed. We put all of these abilities into several different categories. Take you and Ben for example. You are both considered to be in the 'Beamer' category, as your primary ability involves the use of beams."

He looked at Brittany. "Brittany, you and Wes Porter would fall firmly into the Psychic category."

"Kurt, Puck, and David fall into the Manipulator class. Manipulators have the ability to change themselves, other objects, or their environment. Amalgamons are a special type of Manipulator. Kurt has the ability to use his body as a medium for taking on the properties of an object and transferring those properties to other objects. He can also merge objects with himself. That's how he was able to pick up that stage during Mr. Finntastic's ceremony. Manips typically don't possess superhuman strength, so he merely merged his own body with the structure of the stage and was able to use it as an extension of himself. That's also how he was able to take a plastic sword and fuse it with the metal of another object, making it a viable weapon. His body adapts at a moment's notice."

I watched Brittany's face as Figgins spoke. She looked absolutely riveted by the whole thing.

"What about Blaine?" she asked.

"We haven't figured out a category for his… special skill," Tina said with a mildly amused look on her face, "although the word 'Disgusting' comes to mind."

Ben shifted in his chair and folded his arms. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what Kurt does next. He knows Santana took the collar, so we'll see him again when he tracks her down."

I gave a defeated sigh. "I figured as much."

Brittany leaned forward, briefly glancing at me. "Wait, what do you mean? What's he going to do to her?"

"I can't follow this guy's logic for shit," Ben admitted, "but it would make sense for him to come after her again. Or maybe even you. He might think you know where the collar is since you were with her."

"He'll probably come after you anyway since he's on this new 'friends and family' plan," Puck added.

Brittany paled. "Oh."

Tina glared at Puck, who gave a "What? It's true" look.

Figgins cleared his throat. "Well then. On to more pressing matters."

"You mean there's more?" I scoffed.

"Oh, much more. As you both have heard, we're experiencing a Goo shortage."

I nodded in acknowledgement. Brittany still appeared to be in shock. I discreetly put my hand under the table and squeezed her knee, shaking her out of her trance. She put her hand over mine and squeezed it hard. No one really noticed this because everyone was watching Figgins. He reached into his lab coat pockets and pulled out two small glass vials. One was full of a sludgy black substance, while the other was filled with some kind of silvery mucus.

"The Goo is made up of two very distinct components with long names that you probably wouldn't remember if I told you." He held up the mucus. "Substance A was invented first. When exposed to radiation, it has highly restorative properties. It's the part of the Goo that heals injuries and cures diseases. Ironically enough, the amount of radiation you need to activate this substance would kill you before the substance could heal you. So it is essentially useless." He held up the sludge in his other hand. "Substance B takes small doses of radiation and chemically amplifies their effects. This was a great discovery because now we are able to use acceptable levels of radiation to activate Substance A. It's not much more than what's given off by the microwave in your kitchen. Unfortunately, using both substances together with even the smallest amount of radiation is what causes people to get superhuman abilities. In other words, we can't win for losing."

He held both vials up in front of his face. "Both substances are worthless on their own, but together, they form the Goo."

"So you're low on special sauce, then?" I asked.

"No, not at all. We have suppliers that are ready at a moment's notice to provide the 'special sauce' we need to make both of these substances. The issue is that we don't know how to process them." He put the vials next to each other on the table. "I could mix these together right now, but the resulting substance would not be Goo. In fact, _that_ is precisely how we tried to make Goo in the beginning. It was even worse than SNIXing."

I shuddered involuntarily and everyone pretended not to notice.

"There is a special process that the Goo needs to go through before it's ready, one that Tina and I have never performed. This task is usually performed by a third party. Try as we might, we've been unsuccessful at replicating it."

Brittany looked at Figgins like he was the world's biggest moron. "So you guys survive off of this stuff, you've been using it in experiments for years, but you don't even really know how to _make_ it?"

Figgins looked a little embarrassed, but Tina came to his rescue.

"We don't know how to make it on purpose," she said firmly. "One of Figgins' graduate students figured out the process that stabilizes the Goo. And when she finally did figure it out, we told her not to tell us how she did it."

"But why? Why wouldn't you want to know?"

"Because we knew what we had on our hands early on and frankly, we didn't want anyone to know about it. From a purely medical standpoint, the McKinley project was an utter failure. Who would prescribe medicine that is administered by a potentially lethal process and has the added side-effect of uncontrollable 'super powers'? It was ridiculous. But from a scientific standpoint, the project was dangerous for us. We had a strong feeling that our discovery wasn't going to stay secret for very long and we didn't know who was going to come knocking on our door for the recipe. It just so happened that the military got to us first, but it could have easily been someone like Kurt. By keeping all of the information separate, we can scatter to the winds and no one would ever be able to force us to produce the Goo for nefarious purposes. We simply don't know how."

Brittany still didn't look impressed. "So what do you do? Just ship the ingredients to your student and she sends you back the 'finished' Goo?"

"Yes," Tina said. "Unfortunately, we lost contact with her almost two months ago. That's what we wanted to talk to you about. We think you might be able to help us find her."

"Me?" Brittany's eyes widened and she sat up straighter in her chair.

Himanshu nodded solemnly. "Your sister has a Cannabis Prime button on her backpack."

"What's that got to do with anything? Don't try to drag my sister into this- this _craziness_," Brittany snapped.

"Believe me, the last thing I want to do is unnecessarily involve someone in McKinley madness, but I don't think we've ever been this desperate before," he said. "We have one barrel of Goo left and that's going to Puck. If we don't track down Uncle Raj's student soon, you and Puck are going to be in the same boat that Quinn is in. And if we run out of Goo, we can't even run anymore tests to find a way to reverse that. Cannabis Prime is the only lead we have."

Brittany's shoulders slumped in defeat. "What am I supposed to do? She could've gotten that from anywhere."

"I highly doubt it," Himanshu shook his head. "We've been using that image for years and we've never seen it pop up anywhere else."

"Using it for what?"

There was a brief moment of silence during which every single McKinley person looked up at the ceiling.

"Jesus, do I even want to know?" I muttered.

"So..." Himanshu trailed off. He looked nervously at the others who didn't look like they wanted to take over for him. "By the time Tina and Uncle Raj came back from jail, we'd already lost touch with all of the graduate students. They stopped answering our messages after everything went down with Artie, probably so they wouldn't end up in jail, too. Uncle Raj decided to give it one more shot and finally one responded, the one who had come up with the process for the Goo. But she was super paranoid about helping us again. We had to be really careful. She allowed us to meet with her in person one time to figure out how we were going to make this whole thing work. We devised a system that would involve a dumb courier-"

Brittany shot him a dirty look. "That's not nice."

"I don't mean that the courier is actually an unintelligent person. I just mean that they have no knowledge of the overall system and they don't make any real decisions. The dumb courier just moves the packages from one place to another without really knowing what's in them, who sent them, or where they're going to end up. Once the dumb courier drops off the packages, the 'smart' courier looks for the Cannabis Prime image to determine which ones are Goo packages. That courier takes them to their final destination."

"That's why Kurt kidnapped me in the first place," I said. "He was looking for a 'special courier' and he thought that _I_ was the one who..."

_Wait a minute._

Something clicked into place in my brain. I remembered where I had seen Cannabis Prime before. I sat up straight in my chair. Himanshu gulped audibly.

_Wait one motherfucking minute._

"Here it comes," Ben whispered to David.

_It's me. _I'm_ the dumb courier._

_7._

I jumped up from my chair and lunged across the table, reaching for Himanshu's neck. Brittany jumped up and pulled me back. She wrapped me up in her arms, pinning my own arms to my sides as I repeatedly tried to reach out and touch someone.

"You _assholes_!" I screeched. "This is all your fault!"

I wriggled in her grip, resisting the urge to use my super strength. Himanshu scooted as far back from the table as he could until his chair slammed into the wall.

"Let me go, Britt! I'm gonna fucking kill them!"

Brittany held me tighter, bewildered. "Santana, calm down! What's wrong?"

"You wanna know why our lives are a hot damn mess? It's because _these_ people decided to have _me_ send their crap for them and put me in harm's way! _That's_ why I got kidnapped. Kurt figured out that _I_ was the courier. It's _me_."

"You? Why would you be the courier?"

I realized why she was confused. I stopped struggling in her arms and finally did something that months ago would have been the scariest thing in the world.

"I'm a driver for Zizes," I said stupidly. "I, uh, drive a delivery truck. That's my day job."

Despite the fact that I had gone through some seriously hardcore shit since my kidnapping, I couldn't even bring myself to turn around and see her reaction. She didn't say anything and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing, so I kept talking.

"I remember seeing the Cannabis Prime sticker on some of the boxes I delivered. There's this weird psychedelic, skater-hippy store downtown. They ship everything in boxes covered with stickers from bands and clothing brands and stuff." I laughed bitterly, feeling like an idiot. "You just stuck an extra sticker on the box and shipped your shit with theirs, didn't you?"

I looked up at the people seated around the table for confirmation and almost peed my pants.

The old woman from the store was now sitting in David's seat. Every inch of skin below her jawline was tattooed. Her hair was about a million different colors, running long and sleek down her back. All she was missing were the many piercings she usually had in various places on her face.

I glared at David/Old Skater-Hippy Lady. "Can you warn me when you're going to do that? Jesus."

"It was a little more complicated than just throwing some random boxes in a pile," David said in the woman's raspy voice. "You can't just drop off huge boxes and make people think that it's their own mail. I had to watch that store for two weeks to figure out how everything worked. Luckily, the store manager's memory isn't what it used to be and her employees are really, really high most of the time. I wait until she goes out for lunch and I come back in as her. Then the employees load up the truck with whatever boxes I tell them to load. Things got confusing because sometimes the employees would complain to her about lifting heavy boxes, but she never knew what they were talking about. I think they just came to the conclusion that she was too old and they were too high to be worried about what was going on with the huge shipments of 'mountain bikes.'"

"That's brilliant," I admitted. "I still hate your guts, but that is brilliant."

"If it's any consolation, we didn't choose you for this," Figgins said. "My student did. She picked the store and she picked both couriers. We've never even met the smart courier. We merely get the boxes to the truck."

"I really don't think that's going to make her feel any better," Brittany replied. "Especially since you've been calling her dumb behind her back."

Himanshu let out a frustrated sigh. "Once again, it's not 'dumb' as in 'stupid,' it's-"

"It doesn't matter!" I interrupted. "I really don't want to hear it. You guys have been lying to me since day one! All this time, I thought Kurt made a mistake when he kidnapped me, but he was right! Now I'm worried about what else he might be right about when it comes to this motley crew."

"Just in case you forgot, Kurt tried to kill you. So don't break your leg while you're jumping on that bandwagon," Puck scoffed.

I gave him an incredulous look. "At least I know exactly where I stand with Kurt. You guys are always the ones hiding your hand. First, you're terrorists, now you've been using me without my knowledge. What's next?"

Brittany's eyes widened at the word "terrorists."

_Fuck. I forgot she didn't know about that._

Puck rolled his eyes. "We didn't ask you to do anything but put some boxes in the mail. Don't be a martyr."

"Fuck you! You put me in the middle of your shit and didn't even try to protect me at all! What if I had gotten into an accident and your containers of toxic waste spilled all over me or other people? What if somebody found out that I was 'helping you' and carjacked me, grilled me for information, stole all your shit, and threw me in a basement to wait for death? That would never happen- OH WAIT. It fucking did."

Puck stood up and banged his fist on the table. "We did try to protect you! We came and got you, didn't we?"

"A lot of good that did!" I screamed back. "Thanks for showing up and pushing me into radioactive acid! It's done wonders for my complexion!"

Puck looked like I'd slapped him in the face. "Are you gonna bring that up every time you're pissed off? Is that just gonna be your go-to button?"

"Nope, you don't have to worry about me ever saying anything to any of you ever again. I'm leaving. Let me go, Brittany."

"What?" Brittany tightened her arms even more as I let my tensed muscles go slack.

"I'm done," I said, staring Puck down. "I'm done being a pawn in this game. I'm out of here."

Brittany didn't let go. "You can't do that!"

"I can do that. You can do that, too. They're asking you to use your sister to track down this person and you know what? You don't have to help them do anything. All you're going to get in return is lies, lies, and lies."

"Actually, I do have to help them, Santana," she said quietly. She let go of my arms and I turned around in her arms to face her. "If I don't help them, Ben will be burned like that forever."

I pursed my lips together, feigning indifference.

"David will be in a coma for the rest of his life," she went on, "and so will Puck."

"Why should I care about what happens to them when they clearly don't care about-"

"And so will I."

That feeling hit me, the one where my heart lodges itself in my esophagus while my stomach sinks lower and lower, ending up somewhere between my bladder and my uterus.

"I'll be just like them and Quinn will never wake up."

"No, B," I said firmly. "I would never let that happen."

"There's nothing we can do to stop it. Not without their help. The Goo shortage is my problem, too."

"Brittany, they lied," I huffed. "They keep secrets and they can't be trusted."

She shrugged. "You lied to me. You've kept secrets. Does that mean you can't be trusted?"

_Oh snap. She went there. She went there, bought the t-shirt, and sent you a postcard. Damn._

I felt ashamed all over again. I looked down and away, but she waited until I looked at her to continue speaking. "I'm still upset, but we're not just throwing up our hands and walking away. We're going to fix things because it's important for both us. We're trying, right?"

I felt my neck heat up and I was suddenly very aware that we were having this conversation in front of six other people.

"Can we talk about this in private?" I whispered.

Brittany, who was usually hyper-aware of other people, realized that we had an audience and blushed, but was not deterred. "That, yes. But as for the rest of this, I think you guys need to talk about it before you just walk out and never look back." She gestured to my chair. Reluctantly, I sat.

We sat in silence for a few seconds with me just glaring at everyone else. Brittany cleared her throat. "I don't know how this is supposed to go, but if I were Santana I'd want to know why you didn't tell the truth."

"Because they're shady," I muttered under my breath. Brittany's shoe tapped against mine purposefully.

"Santana, we all sat down and talked about this while you were undergoing the SNIX process," Tina said. "We didn't tell you right away about the courier stuff because things were already crazy enough. If you had decided to storm out before your training ended, you probably would've gone out and accidentally killed someone or yourself."

"After that, it wasn't even relevant anymore," Ben added. "We were already trying to think of another system to send our packages. We were _never_ planning on sending you out there again after what happened."

Himanshu slowly scooted his chair back to the table. "I'm not just saying this because you want to kill me, but honestly, you were never really in any danger until very, very recently. The whole courier thing was just a precaution born out of paranoia. Until Kurt popped up, we were only really worried about the military finding out."

I rolled my eyes.

_Only the military._

David caught my eye roll. "It's been two years. If they've haven't knocked on your door yet, they either don't know or don't care."

_Two years? I've been doing this for two years?_

I stared blankly at the table. I didn't even know what to think about that.

_The whole time I've been working at Zizes, I've been the secret-dumb McKinley courier._

"Santana," Brittany said softly, bringing me out of my thoughts. She put her hand on my knee under the table. "Do you have anything you want to say?"

My mind was reeling, so I just forced words to come out of my mouth. "What else don't I know?"

"That's a difficult question to answer," Figgins started. "There are so many things that you might want to know that we just haven't thought of telling you. To my knowledge, I think the only things that we've purposely avoided mentioning were your role as the courier and the full extent of our money-making ventures."

"But from now on, it's full disclosure," Tina assured me. "Anything you want to know, just ask."

The image of three charred delivery trucks entered my mind.

"Do you know what happened to the other delivery people that Kurt kidnapped?" I asked, suppressing a shudder.

"No," David said firmly. "We had no idea about that until we came to find you."

I gauged his expression, evaluating it before ultimately accepting his answer. It's not like I had a good track record for telling when people were lying anyway.

"Fine. I guess that's all for now." I crossed my arms over my chest and slumped in my chair. "I'll stay, but I'm only here for Brittany. Outside of that, you guys are basically dead to me... except you're alive… you guys are zombies to me. Got it?"

The last thing I expected was to see obvious disappointment on the faces of the McKinley Six.

"If that's how you wish to proceed, then we will respect that," Figgins said diplomatically.

I could see Brittany frowning at me from the corner of my eye, but I couldn't even conjure up a fuck to give. "Great. Now, that that's settled, what do we need to do?"

"The first thing you need to do is find out who gave Cannabis Prime to Brittany's sister," Himanshu said, "and hope to God that her 'friend' actually knows something and isn't just some random kid who thought it would make a cool button."

"What about the graduate student?" Brittany asked. "Can we know her name and what she looks like? That would probably make it a lot easier for us to find her."

"Yes," Figgins nodded. "I'll give you her file. Her name is Marley Rose."

* * *

><p>Brittany's cell phone was still intact and had been sitting in a plastic bag with the rest of her belongings for a week. She sat on the floor next to Quinn's bed with her phone clutched in her hands for about an hour. I let her lean against me, not really sure how my presence was helping, but she assured me that it was. When the clock struck five, she finally pulled her sister's name up in her phone and called. As the phone began to ring, she slipped her free hand into mine and laced our fingers together.<p>

When Mojo answered, Brittany jerked the phone away from her ear.

"Hey! Hey! Calm down!" Brittany shouted into the phone. She glanced over at Quinn as if her comatose friend was going to roll over and tell us to be quiet. "Everything's alright. I'm okay. Just stop yelling."

She gave Mojo a few seconds to calm down before speaking to her normally.

"No, everything's fine. I swear, 'Jo. I just wanted to talk to you in private without Dad or Judy hanging around, so I called."

_I will not eavesdrop on this conversation. I will not eavesdrop on this conversation._

"Here, I'm gonna put you on speaker."

_Oh. Nevermind._

"Santana's here," she announced, holding the phone between us. "Say hi."

"Hi, Santana," Mojo said disinterestedly. I couldn't really blame her. If I got a call from a loved one who was in the "hospital," I wouldn't really be too concerned with their random friend either.

"Hi, Mojo," I said.

Brittany pulled the phone back to her mouth. "Mojo, we need to ask you about something. Is anybody around?"

"Nope. Dad's doing the weekend show, Judy's next door, and Frannie's out kissing Nat's ass somewhere. Did I say that out loud? Whoops. Sorry."

Neither of us really knew how to respond to that, so Brittany decided to ignore it. "So we needed to ask you something important."

Mojo barked out a laugh. "If I know it, it can't be that important."

"It is, trust me. Do you remember the first time you came to the hospital and the nurse asked you about your button?"

"The Transformers button? Yeah…" she answered warily.

"We need to know where you got it," I said.

There was a full ten seconds of silence on the line.

"Did we get disconnected?" I whispered to Brittany.

"Mojo?" Brittany called. "You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Why do you want to know about that button?" Mojo's tone was completely different now. She sounded guarded and tense.

I said the first thing that popped into my head. "That nurse guy thought it was really cool. He won't stop talking about it so we wanted to see if we could get him one. Hopefully, it will shut him up for a few seconds. Where did you get yours?"

"I got it from a friend," she said, repeating the same answer from her encounter with Himanshu.

"Yeah, you said that before. What friend? Who is this friend?" Brittany's tone had changed, too. She was in Big Sister mode and she was not playing around.

"A friend you don't know."

Brittany frowned at the phone. "I know all of your friends."

"Not this one. He's a new friend."

"He? A boy gave you that?"

"Yes, Mother, a boy gave me a button. Don't worry, I'll stay away from wine coolers and hot tubs."

"Bye, Mojo," Brittany said abruptly as she moved her thumb to the End Call button.

"Wait, wait! Jeez! I was just kidding!" Mojo huffed.

Brittany narrowed her eyes and didn't say anything until a feeble "sorry" came through the speaker phone. "What? I didn't catch that."

"I'm _sorry_," Mojo said petulantly.

"That's not even a little bit funny and you know it," Brittany snapped. Mojo mumbled out another apology and Brittany's irritation abated.

I'd never seen her stand up to someone so effortlessly. Her furrowed brow and pursed lips were incredibly sexy. Authoritative Brittany was hot when she was pissed off at somebody else. When she was pissed at me, I was too frazzled to be turned on.

I had tuned out the conversation a little, too busy staring at Brittany's profile to pay attention, when Mojo started yelling.

"Why are you getting all worked up about a freaking _button_?" she exploded. "Did Frannie and Natalie put you up to this?"

"Put me up to what?" Brittany asked.

"Frannie and Natalie can't keep their big mouths shut and they want everyone to know my business! Well, the next time they run to you to tattle on me, tell them I said they can shove it up-"

"What are you talking about? No one's been talking to Frannie or Natalie." Brittany turned to me and mouthed the words 'Have you?' I shook my head.

"Suuuuuure you haven't." I could practically hear Mojo's eyes rolling. "I told them not to tell you anything because you're sick and you shouldn't have to deal with all of this crap, but no, they told you anyway."

"We have no idea what you're talking about, Mojo," Brittany said. "What's going on over there?"

"Nothing, Britt." She took a deep breath and took her voice down a few notches. "Everything's great. Just rest up and get better, okay? Everybody wants to see you come home. We really miss you. I gotta go, so I'll call you later."

"Mojo-"

She ended the call and Brittany sat there looking at the screen.

"Britt?" I squeezed the hand I was holding.

She lifted her head and cleared her throat. "I have to go home."

"Britt, you can't just show up at your house. What are you going to tell your family?"

"I have no idea, but I have to go, San. Something's wrong. I can't fix it from here, but something is really wrong. I can't let this fall apart. Not again."

* * *

><p>It wasn't difficult to get Figgins and Co. to agree to let us leave once we explained that Mojo wasn't going to tell us anything over the phone. Desperate times called for desperate measures and if we had any hope in fixing the Goo shortage, Brittany and I were going to have to figure out what the fuck was going on with Mojo. It helped that they knew Brittany wasn't a flight risk after she'd talked me into sticking around earlier.<p>

The McKinleys only had one car that wasn't a robot in disguise. It was a beat-up, raggedy 1975 Pontiac Trans Am. It didn't even have a color. It was just rust in the shape of the car.

"I think this car is Knight Rider's grandpa," Brittany whispered, warily eyeing the old beast as Puck tried desperately to get it to start.

I snickered. "More like great-grandpa. Wait, was the car's name Knight Rider or was the guy's name Knight Rider?"

"Nobody's name was Knight Rider," Puck said exasperatedly from behind the wheel.

Brittany ran her finger across the roof and probably caught tetanus in the process. "I'd rather ride in Rachel's car than in this thing."

"I wouldn't go that far," I said.

"Rachel's car is ugly, but I'm never afraid that it's going to break down or explode. This thing looks… unsafe."

Unsafe was an understatement, but it was the only option we had. Himanshu didn't want any "untrained drivers" in his Transformers and frankly, I didn't want to be behind the wheel of one of those things, either. I'd had enough surprises to last a lifetime. The last thing I needed was for my car to randomly turn into Bumblebee in the middle of town.

"At least we know it's not going to get stolen," I pointed out.

Brittany snorted. "My dad lives in Rockwood. You can leave the keys in a brand new car with the engine running and no one will steal it."

"Don't do that in Lima Heights. I saw somebody steal a car with four flat tires once." I couldn't even keep a straight face as I said it.

"No, you didn't," Brittany laughed.

"Yes, I did."

"Oh really? How'd they do that?"

"Stolen tow truck."

"Would they steal Rachel's car? I parked outside your apartment and nobody touched it. I was kinda disappointed."

"No one would steal that thing. I think they'd slash her tires just because it's so visually offensive."

The engine roared to life and Puck stepped out of the car, grinning triumphantly.

"It looks like the old girl still has some life in her!" He gave the car an affectionate pat on the door. The driver's side mirror fell off and smashed on the ground.

Brittany frowned. "It looks like she's on her death bed."

"Hey now," he said defensively. "This is an awesome car! I'll have you know that I'm gonna fully restore her one day. She just needs a little TLC, that's all."

I swept the broken glass away from our feet. "Let me know how that turns out, T-Boz. In the meantime, I guess we have no choice but to put some miles on this rust bucket."

Things were still a little tense after our earlier exchange, so even my normal level of taunting felt like an attack.

He pouted for a millisecond before puffing out his chest like a macho, macho man. "You do know that you can fly, right? You don't have to take my 'rust bucket' if you don't want to."

"How are we going to explain how we magically got from 'Columbus' to Lima without some kind of transportation?" I asked.

"Good point. Carry on."

Brittany walked over to the driver's side. "Mind if I drive?"

Her hands weren't shaking, so I didn't see any reason why not.

"Sure." I made my way to the passenger's side, opened the door, and sat down. As soon as my butt hit the seat, I knew something was wrong.

Brittany plopped down in her seat and made a retching noise. "It smells like something died in here! And this seat- it feels like it's made out of bean bag chair."

"It _is_ made out of bean bag chair," Puck said. "My butt is sensitive."

"My eyes are sensitive to these leopard print seat covers," I muttered. My eyes were drawn to the small pine tree hanging from the rearview mirror. "Where did you buy this air freshener? What's this scent? Roadkill?"

"It came with the car."

"You should give it back." Brittany gagged and pulled her shirt up over her nose.

Puck reached in through the window and yanked the air freshener out of the car. "Have a nice trip, ladies. Don't hurry back."

* * *

><p>The travel time from McKinley's temporary headquarters on the outskirts of Lima to Rockwood was about 30 minutes. Every minute in that car felt like an hour. Even with the windows down, the smell was crazy bad. I had to restrain the urge to fling myself out of the car multiple times during the trip.<p>

We parked at a strip mall a few blocks away from the house. That car was going to draw too much attention. After a few minutes of walking, we finally reached a light blue two-story house with a green rocking chair on the front porch.

"Is this it?" I asked.

"Yup, this is my dad's house. Hopefully, Mojo's here."

"It doesn't look like anyone is home. There aren't any cars in the driveway."

She pointed across the yard to the house next door. "Judy's around."

She started walking toward the front door and I quickly followed behind, wondering if I had missed something or if I was just stupid.

"Why is Judy parked in the neighbor's driveway?" I asked, following behind.

"Judy _is_ the neighbor. That's her house." She said it as though it should've been obvious.

"She doesn't live here?"

"She lives here most of the time. When she gets pissed off, she goes back to her house for a while. That doesn't happen a lot, so when it does, you know it's bad."

"Jeez. I've heard of husbands and wives having separate bedrooms, but never separate houses."

Brittany's hand hovered over the door handle. "It's not really, you know, official or whatever… they're not actually 'married.' Legally."

"Now I'm completely confused."

"Here, come inside. I'll explain."

Brittany opened the front door and walked inside. I stood on the porch with my mouth hanging open.

"Aren't you coming inside?" she asked.

"You leave the front door unlocked?"

"Yeah."

"What if somebody walked in here and stole all your stuff?"

Her eyes widened like the thought had never occurred to her. "Who's going to do that? Nobody's going to do that."

I shook my head as I walked through the doorway. "This place is so weird. I need to go back to the Heights where things make sense."

The living room was beautifully decorated with swanky-looking furniture except one couch that looked like it had been strapped to the roof of a DeLorean and transported straight from the 70s. There were family pictures all over the place and everything looked cozy and welcoming. I walked up to one of the family pictures and realized that the strikingly beautiful blonde woman playing with young Brittany and young Quinn was not Judy.

_This must be Brittany's mom._

"So Mo and Judy aren't married?" I asked, discretely looking for Judy in other pictures. She appeared in a few of them, but Brittany's mom was always there, too. It looked like no one had put up any pictures since she'd disappeared.

"No. I think a lot of people just assume that they are. Sometimes they pretend to be, even though they don't really like each other very much. I think it's more of an image thing for Judy. Otherwise, people wouldn't understand. They still don't understand."

"Understand what?"

Brittany swallowed and cleared her throat. I took her hand and she accepted mine gratefully. "Judy and my mom were best friends. A lot of people think Judy moved in on my dad after my mom went missing and Mr. Fabray ran off with his secretary. But they don't know about my dad's… problem. When he gets upset, he starts drinking again. He never hits us or anything like that, but he just isn't a good dad when he gets like that. Judy was the best thing that ever happened to us because she saw that both of our families were missing something and she came over and whipped everything into shape. Now we're like the Brady Bunch without all the boy-children. Or Alice. Or a dog."

Her face changed. She was shooting for some kind of half-smile to make light of the situation, but she missed entirely and grimaced. "I know you're not Judy's biggest fan, but I've always appreciated her for what she does. It gets really tough around here when she's gone and when my dad is drinking."

I put my hand on her back and rubbed it soothingly. Her muscles were ridiculously tense. "I know she's important to you. I would never try to get in the way of that."

"Thank you for understanding." She took my hand and started to lead me across the room. "Come on, let's get moving. Mojo's room is upstairs."

Once we got upstairs, Brittany walked down the hall to the last room on the left. She threw the door open without knocking and walked in. Mojo's bedroom looked like two different people were sharing it. Half of it was decorated with cheerleading posters and posters of the heartthrob of the moment while the other half was decorated with various posters of drug paraphernalia.

"Mojo?" Brittany walked across the room and stuck her head in the bathroom.

"Doesn't look like anyone is home," I observed.

"I guess we'll have to wait for her," she said. "My dad has the Sunday night show and the Monday morning show back to back, so he won't be home. Judy's next door and that means Frannie will go there tonight. So I guess we can just hang out in my room until Mojo shows up."

I followed her out of Mojo's room and all the way to the other end of the hall. She opened the door to her room and stepped inside. The walls and shelves were covered in cheerleading stuff. There were trophies, ribbons, plaques, certificates. There were even pom-poms hanging from the mirror and red streamers hanging from the fan.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a huge gray blur dart out of the closet and under the bed.

_What the fuck?_

"This is my old room," Brittany said, gesturing around with her hand as she walked around the bed. "Make yourself at- oof!"

Something jolted her roughly. She pinwheeled her arms before falling onto the floor and out of sight. I immediately sprang into action.

_6._

I ran around the bed with my Hand of Death at the ready. Sitting on Brittany's legs and quickly scaling her body was a huge… I didn't even know what the fuck it was.

"_Leave her alone!"_ I bellowed, cupping my hand and forming a ball of energy. _"Get off of her!"_

Brittany sat up immediately. "No! Don't!"

"_I'm not gonna hit you, Britt. Just sit still."_

I pulled my arm back, ready to throw, but she snatched up the blob and pulled it to her chest. She was _hugging_ it and staring at me like I was some kind of crazy person. "Santana, put your hand down, please!"

I was so confused. _"Brittany… what the hell _is_ that thing?"_

"This is Lord Tubbington, my cat." She turned him around and sure enough, that big, gray blob had a kitty head on it. He squirmed in Brittany's arms, turning himself back around so that he could nuzzle her.

_That's not a cat. That's a Winnebago._

I powered myself down as she struggled to get up from the floor with the thousand-pound feline in her arms.

"I thought it was attacking you," I said stupidly.

She sat down at the head of the bed with Lord Tubbington. "He was just excited. Just running a little too fast."

She patted the other side of the bed. I closed the bedroom door as I walked around the bed and sat down next to her.

"Can you hear that?" she whispered. "He's purring."

It was impossible for me _not_ to hear it. That cat sounded like a fucking chainsaw. I was convinced he had a diesel engine somewhere in his large body. Even though the sheer size of the cat was freaking me out, he was clearly crazy about Brittany. He was moving his head every which way so that she could stroke him, scratch behind his ears, and just love on him in general.

"Your voice," she said as she petted Lord Tubbington. "I've never heard you do that before."

I cringed. Every time I wanted Brittany to ignore something, she went straight for it.

"Yes, you have," I mumbled.

"Yeah, I've heard you, but not _you_. Not as Santana."

"Is it weird for you?" I asked. "I mean, it has to be, right? To see me with crazy eyes and hear that creepy voice coming out of me?"

She mulled over that for a second before answering my question with a question. "Is it weird for you to do that in front of me? Does it make you uncomfortable to show me that?"

_Yeah, how does it feel to be a freak?_

"He really missed you," I said, gesturing to the cat as I abruptly changed the subject. I could feel Brittany's eyes boring into me.

"I usually come by every day after work. He was probably worried sick. Looks like he hasn't been eating well."

I bit my tongue so hard that I tasted blood in my mouth.

She kissed Lord Tubbington's fat head and started talking to him in a cutesy voice. "Aren't you supposed to be at work, Tubbs? How's my dad gonna pick the Tubby Tabby Tunes if you're at home?"

Lord Tubbington meowed loudly.

"Is your tummy upset or did you just miss Mommy?" The cat made a weird noise and buried his face in her boobs. Brittany scratched his head and rolled her eyes. "Alright, I guess nobody wants to talk about anything today."

"I get the feeling that that was directed at me, too," I guessed.

"Yeah, it was." She chuckled a little to herself and shook her head. "You and Lord Tubbington have a lot in common."

I looked down at my waistline and frowned. "Not that much."

"You both have this big, tough exterior that you show everybody, but when someone flips you over, you're just soft and fluffy underneath." She lowered Lord Tubbington to her lap so that she could pet him with both hands.

"I don't try to be big and tough," I said defensively. "I'm like, 5' 4". Nobody's afraid of me."

"No, I mean, your personality. Your sarcasm and your jokes and stuff. It keeps people from getting too close. A lot of people don't get close to Tubbs because he's a big guy." She grabbed my hand. "Here, pet him."

"Um…"

"Come on, San. I swear, he's the sweetest cat ever."

I put my hand on his wide back. He was way softer than I would've guessed, but he was also uncomfortably warm. As soon as I started to pet him, his jiggly body tensed up.

"It's ok, Tubbs," she whispered. "She's not gonna hurt you."

She put her hand next to mine and started petting him again. I followed her lead and slowly, the cat relaxed his muscles. There was a _lot_ of muscle underneath all of that blubber.

_No wonder he knocked Brittany over. This cat is strong._

She grinned. "See? He likes you."

I looked down and almost jumped out of my skin. Lord Tubbington was giving me a murderous death glare and I knew exactly why. I was encroaching on his territory and crashing his "Mommy and Me" time. I knew he was just tolerating me and I was under no illusions about this cat being my friend.

"So I have a tough personality?" I asked, reluctantly tearing my gaze away from the cat.

"I've just noticed how you are around people." She blushed. "I've been watching you for a long time."

"Watching me?"

"At the bar. I would watch you with other people. Customers, other bartenders, everybody. It's not that you were rude to them… well, sometimes you were, but most of the time, you would just serve them and then make them feel uncomfortable if they tried to start up a real conversation. Or you would just tell a joke and walk away while they were laughing. But you actually _talked_ to me. It made me feel special because nobody else got to have these long conversations with you. But today, I realized that all we talked about was me. We _never_ talked about you. You were hiding yourself from me, even back then. I mean, the Zizes thing? You could've told me about that and I never would've judged you." Brittany sighed and shook her head. "Santana, do I know _anything_ about you?"

"You know about Mr. Ziggles," I offered. "That's more than most people know."

"So do you just keep everyone at arm's length then? Do you ever let anyone know you?"

"It's not like I have a list of things I hide from people," I said defensively. "I just don't tell everybody that I'm an adult that sometimes sleeps with a stuffed giraffe. And I didn't see any point in telling you that I deliver packages and apparently radioactive chemicals for a living."

"And you didn't see any point in telling me that you saved me when I got mugged and that you had super powers," she finished.

"Well, now you're all filled in and look where it's gotten you. You're caught up in all of this bullshit, which is exactly what I didn't want to happen."

Brittany shook her head. "I don't think you would've told me about your powers even if you weren't caught up in this stuff."

"Oh really?"

"Really. It's just like Mercedes said." She paused for a moment. "By the way, I know you were awake when I was talking to Mercedes."

My eyes damn near fell out of my head. "Wha- how did you know?"

"Mercedes pointed at you and mouthed 'she's awake.'"

_I need to go bestie shopping because this is just not working out._

"She said that you lie when you think her opinion of you is going to change," Brittany went on. "You thought my opinion of you was going to change if I knew about your job, so you didn't tell me. Same with your powers."

"I already told you that I was afraid that you would freak out," I pointed out.

"I know and at the time, I took it personally. Part of it _is_ personal because I've pushed you away before. But even if I had never pushed you away, I _still_ don't think you would've told me."

I raised my hand. "Objection! Speculation!"

"Judging by the fact that you haven't told Mercedes, your best friend for life, I'd say I'm right." She let out a short laugh. "Thank god I talked to her. You make a lot more sense when I have some idea of what's going on inside your head."

I started to pull my hand off of Tubbs, but she put her hand on top of mine. "I'm just trying to understand you, San. The more I learn, the more I realize that I really don't know anything about you. _We_ don't really know a lot about each other. I mean, I've told you a lot about how Tommy is a douchebag, but I haven't told you about _my_ Mr. Ziggles and how he's gotten me through every problem I've ever had." She bent down and gave the morbidly obese cat another kiss on the head. He let out a loud meow, staring me down as he did so. He was gloating, that fat bastard.

Resisting the urge to push him off the bed, I turned my attention back to the conversation at hand. "So have you been holding back from me this whole time, too?"

"I have." She kept her eyes on Lord Tubbington. "Since you told me the truth about everything, I've had to do a lot of thinking about us. What we are, how we got here, what my part in it was. And I realized that I was mad at you for doing the same thing I was doing to you. I was holding back the _real_ stuff, giving you stuff that didn't make me uncomfortable. Maybe everyone does that when they first meet, but you can't go anywhere until someone opens up. I couldn't open up and I think it had a lot to do with the fact that you're a girl and part of me wasn't ready to accept that I wanted to take things further with you."

"Part of you still doesn't want to accept that," I said.

She bit her lip. "Yeah, you're right. I'm struggling with that, but I'm not denying it anymore. So I have to own up to my part in this. We both do. This is going to have to be a two-way street, San. We can't beg the other person to open up while we keep ourselves closed off." She looked straight into my eyes. "And we have to be honest with each other. I've been with a liar and I can't do that again. I don't want that for us. I can't do that. So I'm laying down the law. You can't lie to me like you lie to Mercedes. I'm not going to do that with you. If you have something you're not ready to tell me, just say so. But don't lie to me. Show me that you trust me. Act like you trust me. Okay?"

I nodded, wrapping my head around all of the stuff that had been thrown at me. "You really have been thinking about this a lot, haven't you?"

"You weren't thinking about it?"

"I was, but I really wasn't doing anything constructive with it. I was mostly just moping," I admitted. "So you knew I was listening to you and Mercedes, but you still said all of that stuff?"

She smiled bashfully. "I kinda wanted you to hear it and it's easier to talk to you when you're pretending to be asleep."

"Well, anytime you want to know something, you can just ask me. You don't have to go to Encyclopedia Santanica." I shook my head at Mercedes's terrible joke.

Her smile faded. "I tried to ask you about how you were feeling this morning and it didn't go so well."

"I'm so sorry about that. I said a bunch of horrible things that I didn't mean."

"Santana, you don't have to take it back," she said, looking down at her cat.

"No, seriously, Britt." I said. "I didn't mean any of that. I felt like such a freak. I was mad at myself and I took it out on you."

"Mad at yourself?" she asked.

"For letting things get out of control. For almost killing you. For not being normal anymore and…" I wrung my hands in my lap.

"And?" She waited and when I continued to sit in silence, she squeezed my hand. "What else were you feeling?"

She waited for my long, long pause.

"General feelings of inadequacy," I mumbled quickly.

"What? Santana, you are _not_ inadequate," she protested.

I felt the tightness in my chest that is typically associated with sober forays into the Dungeon of Feelings. I only talked about that kind of stuff with Mercedes and even then it was hard. I gulped. "It's just that I, uh… I don't really… um… I don't like myself sometimes and I don't want you to see me like that."

Brittany looked at me in disbelief. She took my cheeks in both hands and pulled me forward, planting a big kiss on my nose. "I like you more than enough for the both of us," she said. "You've always been amazing to me since that first night we met. And even though I hate that you kept it from me, you were there on the worst night of my life, risking your life me. I don't think people get much better than you."

Tension I wasn't even aware of left my body and my shoulders slumped. "Thank you."

We were quiet for a minute before she said, "can I kiss you?"

"Of course," I practically shouted.

_You could've waited a second before answering._

"I haven't been kissing you because-" her cheeks started to turn red, "-because when I kiss you, I get butterflies in my stomach."

It was probably the last thing I expected her to say. I couldn't stop my dopey grin from escaping its prison. "Is that so?"

"Every time," she said quietly. "So I stopped kissing you to make sure that I was thinking clearly. Butterflies are distracting."

As she continued to talk, the urge to kiss her grew tenfold. I just wanted to give her that feeling over and over again.

"And I don't kiss you while you're 'helping' me because… I mean, this is all pretty intimate, don't you think?" She didn't wait for a response, instead choosing to nervously power through it. "It's like we're doing this super intimate thing, but we're both acting like it's nothing. Like it's some favor that you can do for your friend and it doesn't mean anything. I don't think I can treat it like nothing while I'm kissing you."

"I was afraid that if we made it into some big, serious thing, you'd freak out," I said.

"Then let me freak out. Anything is better than you feeling like I'm using you. You're not a vibrator, San. You're so much more than that to me." With that, she leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips.

_2._

It was a simple kiss, just the soft, slow movement of lips sliding against each other. The energy was manageable and Brittany wasn't doing anything that would cause me to skyrocket into space. I released her lips with a loud smack. She giggled and I went back in for another kiss. As soon as our lips touched, I felt small, sharp cat teeth sinking themselves into my hand.

_Really? Bite this, Lard._

Purely out of spite, I leaned further into the kiss and slowly maneuvered my tongue into Brittany's mouth. She made a small moan of contentment in the back of her throat and stopped petting the cat completely. Lard Tubbingon bit down harder and since he probably had enough power in his jaw to break an adult femur, I tapped out and broke the kiss.

A slow smile spread across Brittany's face. "I missed that."

"Britt, your cat is biting the shit out of me," I said, tattling like a kindergartner.

She looked down, catching Lord Blubberton right in the act. "Tubbs! What are you doing? Stop that!"

At the sound of Brittany's command, he released me. Brittany took my hand and inspected it. It hurt like hell.

"You're bleeding," she whispered.

"It's fine," I said. I held my hand up in front of my face. It wasn't bleeding very much, but the holes were deep enough to need some attention. Lord Tubbington had sunk his vampire fangs deep into the fleshy fat of my thumb.

"I'm gonna get the first aid kit." She hopped off the bed and ran into the bathroom. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He never bites."

As soon as Brittany was out of sight, Tubbs flattened his ears and hissed at me. I just grinned at him. Part of me felt really, really stupid for beefing with a house cat, but the less mature parts of me were finally happy to be in a feud with someone who didn't have super powers or weapons.

"It's okay," I called to her. "He's just not used to me yet."

That cat looked at me like he wanted to claw my face off.

"Guess your mommy likes to kiss me, too," I snickered. "What's the matter, Lard? You jealous?"

Lord Tubbington hopped off the bed (which surprisingly didn't cause an earthquake) and stalked off to the closet, probably to plot my death. Brittany came back with a small first aid kit and took my hand.

"I can heal it myself, Britt."

"At least let me clean off the blood." She opened two disinfecting wipes and thoroughly cleansed the area. "I'm so sorry. He's normally such a good kitty, I swear."

I felt kinda bad for antagonizing Garfield. "He just wants to spend time with you. I was in the way."

"He can't just go around biting people or he's going to have to back to anger management," she said firmly.

_The fuck?_

When the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, I smiled.

_Ah, okay. Brittany joke. Got it._

"All clean," she announced, doing a final swipe of the wipe over my palm.

She pulled my hand into her lap, running her fingers over the place where Tub of Lard had impaled me with his fangs. It took me a second to realize that she was actually tracing the dark brown scar from my little thumb incident.

"I did that to myself," I reminded her. "I told you that story."

She nodded. "I know. I just don't like to think of you being hurt."

"It's okay," I said. "Tina took care of me."

I frowned as I said it. It reminded me of the whole courier thing, which made my stomach turn.

"I should've been there. Next time, I will be." She pulled my hand to her face, closed her eyes, and kissed the scar on my hand. The kiss was long, yet chaste. She was holding my hand so tightly that it was starting to tingle and go numb. After all that had happened in the past few days, she was showing me such tenderness and care that I thought I might melt into a puddle of mush.

_It really does help when she knows what's going on in your head. You both need to stop screwing around and open up._

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open and slammed against the wall. Mojo stumbled into the room, dressed in a grungy pair of ripped jeans and a Bob Marley shirt. She was also wielding a baseball bat. Brittany dropped my hand like a bad habit and even though I understood her action rationally, I couldn't stop the brief pang that went through me.

"Brittany?" Mojo lowered the bat. "I thought you were a burglar!"

She ran across the room in an instant and threw her arms around Brittany's neck. Brittany hugged her little sister back with equal enthusiasm.

"Oh my god, no one told me you were coming home! I wanted to be there when you got out of the hospital-"

"Mojo," Brittany said firmly, pulling her sister back. "We haven't been released yet. We're not supposed to be here."

Mojo threw a glance at me and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You escaped from the hospital?"

I shrugged. "I guess you could say that."

"What are you, crazy? You're sick! What if something happens? Look at you! You're shaking! You have to go back!"

Mojo was right. Brittany's shaking at gotten a little worse. She had been holding herself together for a while now and I didn't know if she was getting tired or if the shaking was just too much. I gave her concerned look, but she ignored it. "We will, we'll go back right away. But first we need to talk. What the heck is going on around here?"

"Ugh! Why don't you ask Frannie Fatmouth since she's already told you everything anyway?" Mojo spat.

"Mojo, I've only talked to Frannie at the hospital. I have no idea what you're talking about."

She regarded us with a rebellious teenager stare and said nothing.

"You took down all of the Cheerios stuff on your side of the room," Brittany continued. "Did something happen at school?"

It was almost scary how pale Mojo got. "What? No! School is fine! Nothing's wrong at school!"

"I think you're lying," Brittany said bluntly.

"J," Mojo said suddenly. "J gave me the button. It was J."

"What? Who is J?" I asked. The complete change of topic made my head spin. It was clear that the answer to our original question had only come out because Brittany had gotten too close to the other issues that were going on around here.

"Just this guy I met at the skate park. Sarah's sister knows him or something." Mojo's attempt at being nonchalant was failing, but the color was slowly coming back to her face.

"_You_ were at the skate park?" Brittany asked skeptically.

"I can go to the skate park!" Mojo shot back.

"How old is this guy? Sarah's older sister is older than _me_."

Mojo bit her lip and mumbled something under her breath.

"I'm sorry, you're gonna have to speak up," Brittany said.

Mojo looked down sheepishly. "I said 'he's twenty six.'"

"Twenty six!" Brittany shrieked. "Mojo, are you crazy? Have you lost your mind?"

"There's nothing wrong with having an older friend!"

Fearing that the Pierce sisters would get sidetracked, I stepped in. "Can we talk to this J person? It's kind of important."

Mojo shrugged. "I was on my way to a party. He'll be there. I guess you can go if you promise to be cool."

"Do we really want to roll into a high school party?" I asked Brittany.

Mojo laughed. "Psh! It's a college party! Like I'd be caught dead at a-"

The look on Brittany's face shut her up immediately.

"Um, anyway, my ride is coming to pick me up in a bit. You guys can ride with us."

I remembered the crapmobile and sighed. "We have our own car. Give us the address of the party and we can meet you there."

Brittany pointed right between Mojo's eyeballs. "And don't think that we're not gonna have a talk after this, Maureen Josephine."

"Well, if that's the case then maybe we should talk about why you escaped from the hospital and drove two hours just to buy a button for a nurse," Mojo smirked.

Brittany glared at her. Mojo knew full well that we were hiding something, too.

She blew Brittany a kiss. "Love you, Big Sis. See you out front."

* * *

><p>According to the address that Mojo had so graciously scribbled on a scrap of paper for us, the party was in North Lima.<p>

North Lima was this small rectangle of land, boxed in by West Lima, East Lima, Downtown Lima, and the wilderness. It was a business district for the most part, although there were some houses on both the east and west edges. I hadn't spent a ton of time in North Lima, but Brittany must have. She took one look at the address, declined my offer to look up directions on my phone, and took off. She took some back roads to get out of East Lima and before I knew it, we were driving up Silver Avenue, the main street in North Lima.

"Come here often?" I asked jokingly. "It's like you had a route planned."

"My mom used to work over here," Brittany said. "This is the same way she used to take to get around the slow lights. I couldn't drive back then so I didn't really know the streets, but I remembered all of the buildings we used to pass."

"Oh. Sorry," I said sheepishly.

"No, it's fine." She smiled softly. "I haven't been out this way in a while. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I like to think about her. I have the best memories of going to-"

A police siren whooped behind us. We both looked in the rearview mirror just in time to see an unmarked cruiser pull onto Silver Ave behind us.

Brittany let out a frustrated growl. "Seriously? I wasn't even doing anything!"

The rust bucket slowed as Brittany pulled the car over and parked by the curb. She glared at the rear view mirror as the cop car parked behind us. "I hope the license plate didn't fall off or something stupid like that."

When two cops got out and started walking toward us, I groaned. It was the pair of douchebags I'd encountered at the police station while giving my statement about the kidnapping. Karofsky and Azimio.

"Not these assholes," I groaned.

"Maybe it won't be too bad. Hopefully, we'll get off with a warning for whatever it is." Brittany rolled down her window. The annoyed scowl fell off her face and was replaced with a cheery smile. When Karofksy reached the window, she greeted him chipperly. "Good evening, officer. What seems to be the problem?"

We were at such a weird angle in the Trans Am that I couldn't see anything but beer bellies and arms. They were both wearing long-sleeved cop shirts. Karofsky's was lumpy and weird in places. Azimio stood outside my window, but I made no move to roll it down until he tapped it with one of his big sausage fingers.

"License and registration, please," Karofsky commanded in a monotone-cop voice. It was the first time I'd ever heard him sound even remotely professional.

"Of course, just one second." Brittany only had her phone and her license, both of which were wedged firmly in her front pocket. As she fished her ID out of her pocket, she gestured to the glove box. I popped it open. The only things in there were dust and cobwebs.

"That's not good," I whispered. "Not good at all."

Brittany gulped, blindly handing her license to Karofsky through her window. "What are we gonna do?"

"I have no clue."

"Where's your registration? Ma'am, we don't have time for-" Azimio leaned down into the window and his chubby face popped into view. When he saw me, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. Every bit of professionalism evaporated into thin air and his voice jumped about an octave.

"Hey, it's the Lady Lover!" he crowed obnoxiously. "Long time, no fuckin' see!"

Brittany inhaled deeply and her eyes widened. I didn't know what to make of her reaction since he was clearly talking to me and not her.

"Britt?" I asked, barely moving my lips. "Brittany?"

"Lady lover? Is it that Lopez chick?" Karofsky called to his partner as he pulled out his ticket book. "I'm not surprised she's driving a hunk of shit like this. Fuckin' West Lima trash."

He started laughing and Brittany's spine snapped ramrod straight. Her entire body went rigid. Her hands balled into fists in her lap and her eyes glazed over.

_1._

I felt myself starting to panic. Something was really wrong with Brittany, but I couldn't help her. I couldn't even talk to her with those two hyenas giggling in the background.

"Britt, what's wrong?" I whispered.

She let out a quiet whimper and her bottom lip quivered.

_2._

_Oh god. Don't freak out now. Control yourself._

"Here's a present to take back to your side of town," Karofsky sneered, tapping his ticket book on the edge of the open window. I watched as his big meaty hands flipped Brittany's ID so that it was facing the right way and despite Azimio's loud cackling, I heard him utter a quiet but clear "oh fuck."

Azimio went on, focusing only on me and unloading whatever rage he had let build since we'd last seen each other. "I bet you thought you were real funny showing Tanaka those spray paint cans, huh?"

"Z," Karofsky croaked. His shaking hands almost dropped the license. He bent down so that he could actually see into the car and his face paled when he saw Brittany in the driver's seat.

"You know what's really funny? This $300 speeding ticket you're about to get slapped with. We'll see who gets the last laugh."

"Azimio!"

"What?" Azimio glared across the car and looked at Karofsky, who was jerking his head toward Brittany. He looked at Brittany and his big, fat mouth snapped shut. He jerked his head out of the car window. Karofsky pulled his head out of the car, too. I couldn't make out the conversation they were having across the roof, but it didn't last very long.

"We're gonna, um, run this license and uh, do some cop stuff," Karofsky said stupidly. "Don't move."

They quickly and stiffly walked back to their cruiser. As soon as they were gone, I unbuckled my seat and turned to face Brittany. I gently grabbed her by the cheeks and turned her heads towards me.

"Talk to me, B," I cooed. "Tell me what's wrong. Please, you're scaring me."

Her eyes slowly focused on my face and she took a deep, deep breath. Her body shuddered and her eyes filled with tears.

"The voices," she whispered. "It's them. Oh god, it's them."

"It's who?" My eyes darted back and forth, searching hers for whatever it was that I was missing.

Her blue eyes locked with mine. "The alley. The guys from the alley. It's them."

It took a second for it to register in my head. "What? Are you sure?"

"I've played that mugging over and over again in my head a million times. I'll never forget what those voices sound like."

A tear fell from her eye and I wiped it away with my thumb. I focused my super hearing behind us. Inside of the cruiser, Karofsky was shouting.

"-and of all the people in the world, you wanted to pull over one of the two people we're not supposed to have contact with!"

I thought hard back to that night, trying to remember everything I could about the three men in the alley.

"_Dude, you're not gonna believe it! We got us a super hombre! You wanna rumble, Pedro?"_

Brittany was right. It was him. Same gruff baby-man voice. The same stocky build. This was the man who had held a gun to my head and hadn't been fast enough to pull the trigger.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know it was her driving this old ass hoopty in North Lima?" Azimio shouted back. "Tanaka said she was in the hospital!"

"_Maybe we don't want your money."_

And Azimio was the round one who I'd thrown into the trash.

_You knew those voices were familiar and you didn't put two and two together?_

The answer has been right in front of my face the whole time and I hadn't seen it.

"Do you think she knows it's us?" Karofsky asked.

"I don't know, but if we want to keep our jobs, we need to get the fuck out of here. We're already stuck on speed trap duty because your dumb ass got shot."

"How is that my fault?! Paul shot me when that crazy freak attacked us!"

"You got grazed!" I watched through the rear view mirror as Azimio punched Karofsky in the weird, lumpy part of his arm. "Stop acting like a little bitch! All wrapped up like a mummy over a damn flesh wound!"

Karofsky jerked his arm away. "Fuck you!"

It was amazing how obvious it was now that I was listening to them argue. I didn't know how I could've missed it.

"_Maybe we don't want your money."_

"_Yeah, maybe we want something else."_

The sound of Karofsky's hand slapping Brittany's ass echoed through my head. Her sobs. Their laughter.

"_You offering that up, too?"_

_10._

Something cracked.

Brittany's head whipped in my direction. "Santana! What are you doing?"

I looked down and saw that my right hand was crushing the door and my left hand was crushing the center console. My breathing was heavy and labored. Energy was pulsing through me sporadically. I took a deep breath to steady myself, but truth be told, I didn't want to feel steady. I wanted to feel out of fucking control.

"_Stay here. I'll be back."_ My voice dropped into its distorted state and crackled with anger. I hated letting Brittany hear that.

She grabbed the hand that was cracking the center console. "Santana, no! Don't get out of the car!"

The hinges on the passenger door creaked as I pushed it open without using the handle. It popped open and Brittany grabbed my forearm.

"Santana, don't!"

"_Brittany, let me go. I'm not going to do anything."_

I wasn't sure what would happen if I got out of the car, but I knew that I was definitely going to do _something_. In that moment, every fiber of my being wanted Karofsky and Azimio dead.

"Santana, you are _not_ going out there," she said. "Just stay- wait, he's coming back. Close your eyes!"

My eyes slammed shut against my will. I tried to force them open, but Brittany was holding then shut with her mind. I heard Karofsky's heavy shuffle-walk on the asphalt. He stopped by Brittany's window again.

"Here's your license," he said gruffly, tossing it into the car. It was ridiculously obvious that he was trying to disguise his voice. He sounded like a kid pretending to be his dad so that he could call in sick from school. "The speed limit is 25 here. Don't speed."

He practically ran back to his cruiser and two seconds later, the car peeled off down the street.

A second later, I heard the sound of the door opening. I could see Brittany's outline in my peripheral vision as she leaned out of the car and vomited.

I wanted to help her, but I was essentially useless. My senses were highly tuned and majorly fucked up at the same time. My vision was blinding white. I could see outlines of things, but not colors. Every sound was magnified times a thousand, so I couldn't tell if Brittany was dry heaving or trying to force her organs out through her throat. Every single one of my movements was at super speed and super strength. I couldn't rub her back or hold her hair. I'd probably rip her apart.

After a few minutes, the vomiting stopped.

"Great, I got some on the seat," Brittany muttered.

"_Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine."

"_You just threw up."_

"Maybe fine is the wrong word." She closed the car door and slumped in her seat. "I'm scared to death. I feel like crap. Nothing makes any sense. My stomach is in knots. Better?"

"_More accurate, at least."_

"What's wrong with you? You're not moving." A soft hand felt my forehead. "You're burning up, San."

"_I need to power down, but I really don't want to. I really, really, really want to go hurt those guys."_

Brittany's hand slid down to my chin and turned my face towards hers. Even in my whitewashed vision, she had an ethereal glow to her. I don't know what brought Brittany out of her panicked state, but suddenly she was almost as forceful with me as she was with Mojo.

"You can't. You're already in enough trouble with them as it is. And what if one of them tried to kill you or something?"

"_I think I can handle those two beer kegs. I kicked their asses once and I can do it again. Karofsky's still healing from the last time."_

"You're strong, but you're not invincible," she said. "I'm not gonna lose Quinn and I'm not gonna lose you. So you're staying here. We've got enough people trying to fight you already."

I closed my eyes and sighed, defeated. _"Ok, ok. They're safe. For now."_

I slowly and carefully powered down. With my vision restored, I looked down at my hands which had little pieces of plastic embedded in them from my fit of rage.

"Puck's gonna be pissed that I tore up his jalopy," I muttered. "We better get going."

She shook her head. "Not until after the party."

"What? We're still going to that? Britt, you don't have to put on a brave face. I know you're shaken up."

"I am shaken up," she said, "but my sister is running around with a 26-year-old, so we're going to the party. Besides, we need to find out what this J guy has to do with Marley."

I let my head fall back and stared at the roof of the car. "Oh yeah. We probably should take care of that, huh? Do you want me to drive?"

"No, I got it. I just want to stop by the 7-11 and get some gum or something," she said, making a face.

She put the car in drive and pulled out onto the street, speeding up to a conservative 23 miles per hour. I thought she was crazy for not wanting to go back to the warehouse and vegetate after what had just transpired. I was still reeling over the fact that the cops were actually mugging people. Shelby had guessed that they were hiring thugs to do their dirty work, but no. Actual cops were dressing up in ski masks and mugging people they didn't like.

_What did I walk in to when I saved Shelby? Was Finntastic hiding in the shadows that time, too? Did I fuck up their whole plan? And this Paul guy must be a cop, too then. He's the tall one, the one who killed Bryan Ryan and shot Karofsky in the arm. Where is he?_

It wasn't a huge breakthrough in the case since it left me with more questions than answers. It gnawed at me as I sat in the parking lot of 7-11, waiting for Brittany to buy her gum and a bottle of ginger ale to settle her stomach.

_It's different. It's different when they're not thugs. Bloods, Crips, Knightmares, they all have a price. But the cops? The low level guys like Karofsky and Azimio? They're not raking in cash doing this shit. Tanaka doesn't even have to pay them because they're either too weak to say no or they enjoy it. So he sends them off to do his dirty work. It's fun for him. It's bloodsport._

_If all of this shit goes south, who can I call? There _are_ no police for me. No military. There's McKinley, if I trust them enough. If they even give a fuck and want to help me. If there's even any Goo left on the planet. Can I protect Brittany and Mercedes and Sam and Sugar and Ziggles in a city where the police chief has no limits to what he'll do? I can't be everywhere all the time. So what happens when Tanaka pulls Brittany over? What happens when Kurt tracks her down and I'm not there? What happens when we leave the warehouse and come back home?_

Suddenly, _I_ wanted to throw up.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Some people had already guessed that Karofsky and Azimio were the muggers, so I'm sure a lot of you figured it out. Santana and Brittany didn't know! It doesn't change much about their current situation, but it leads to some other things that are important.

Also, let me know if I'm getting too technical or if detailed explanations of random shit are boring to you. I know some people like it. In real life, I'm terrible at verbally explaining things, so I like to make sure everything I write makes sense. If you ever don't get something, ask me about it and I'll try to reword it so that it makes sense.

I've been trying to develop the Brittana more and make it deeper, so I hope that's working. I kind of like making Brittany and Santana as different from each other as possible because it shows how much they complement each other. So I wanted Brittany to be the one who was really being introspective and proactive and trying to solve the trust issue while Santana just kinda freaked out, but didn't really get any traction on it because she spent so much time brooding. I don't know, just trying some things.

Tubbtana: I was going to introduce Tubbs five chapters ago, but it didn't really work out and it was basically crack!fic. I like Tubbtana in all forms, whether they love or hate each other, so it was fun to make Tubbs immediately loathe her just for being there. I don't know if they'll become friends at some point, but she'll never stop calling him "Lard."

I'm trying to figure out some strategies for being more effective (and faster) at this whole thing. I have an issue with writing a lot of stuff that never gets used. For example, I wrote scene where Santana and Brittany watch a Cheerios practice. I wrote a completely different cop scene. I wrote the party scene. Where is that stuff? Not in this chapter. But all of that added time to getting the chapter finished. I'm not really as efficient as I used to be. At the rate I'm going, it's gonna take another five years to finish this story XD So I'm addressing the issue, whatever that means. Probably a writing schedule of some sort… and really evaluating new ideas and scenes before I start writing them.

Anyway, a big chunk of the party scene is already written so that should help move things along.

Thank you again for sticking with me and I hope to see you at J's party.  
>Don't worry, all the cool kids will be there XD<br>-LateInLifeTiburón


	16. Fierce

**A/N:**

**Trigger Warning:** This chapter contains discussion of rape.

Hello, friends! It's been awhile.

I could give you a long list of reasons for why I've gotten progressively worse at updating, but if you're reading this, you probably just want to get to the story already. I respect that.

I should change my name to LatestTiburón. Maybe LaterThanLateTiburón.

Disclaimer: So I've realized that nobody in this fandom does disclaimers and now I feel like a weirdo for putting them in every chapter. I picked it up from some other fandoms long ago. By the way, I don't own Glee.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16: Fierce<strong>

As we were pulling out of the 7-11 parking lot, I made an interesting discovery.

I was absently running my fingers over my palm, feeling the indentations that had been left behind by the plastic interior of Puck's crapmobile.

_At least I didn't cut myself or I'd have to heal my hand again._

The thought sat in my head for a beat before I realized that I had no recollection of healing my hand that day. I thought back to when Lord Blubberton had bitten me. I remembered Brittany cleaning the wound, but I didn't remember actually healing it. I looked down at my hand and sure enough, there was no cat bite.

The dark brown scar from my laser/thumb incident was gone, too.

_What the hell? First, my boob bullet wound is gone. Now, my thumb scar has disappeared. What happened?_

I racked my brain, but I had no idea.

_I said I would heal my hand, but Brittany said she wanted to clean the wound. She cleaned it, she kissed it, and she-_

_Oh. Wait._

_That tingly feeling in my palm. That was just numbness in my hand, right? She wasn't…_

…_healing me?_

I closed my palms, put them in my lap, and glanced over at Brittany. Her eyes were focused on the road. She was looking straight ahead, periodically glancing down to make sure that we weren't speeding again. If my suspicions were correct and Brittany had healing powers, she needed to know.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the best time to have that conversation.

We pulled up to the party house a few minutes later. This neighborhood was on the western edge of North Lima, a stone's throw from Lima Heights Adjacent. The house itself was two stories tall with a pretty large lawn. I felt bad for the person who had to care for said lawn because there were at least five or six cars parked on it. Someone was leaving as we pulled up, so we got a spot right at the end of the driveway. We got out and Mojo walked over to us.

"What took you so long? Whose car is this? It looks like-"

"Yeah, yeah, we know." I looked around the yard, which was in chaos. There was music blasting out of the house and there were way too many people milling in and out of various entrances, shouting things and chugging liquids. A lot of them were obviously underage.

A scrawny teen with struggling facial hair stumbled up to me.

"Hey, girl," he slurred, "lemme get a ride on that shapely, brown ass."

I pushed him and he fell backwards into some bushes that were lining the sidewalk.

"So this is classy," I said, gesturing to the drunk asshole who was now wrestling with a shrub. "We haven't even been here for five minutes and Screech Powers is trying to get my goodies. I thought this was a college party. Half of these kids look like high schoolers."

"They are high schoolers. That's what happens when you have a college party in Lima," Brittany said. "You never went to college parties when you were in high school?"

"…um, no."

_I couldn't even get invited to high school parties._

Mojo shook her head in disapproval. "Party crashers. Come on, let's go find J."

She led us up the driveway and into the house where things were ten times worse. Bodies were packed tightly into every available space and the music was deafening. The air was filled with smoke. We maneuvered our way through the entrance and through the living room, pushing against warm, drunk bodies with every step. Every single person had a Solo cup in their hand. Although I hadn't gone to college parties when I was in high school, I _had_ gone to college parties when I was in college. Everything looked the way it had back then, except now I was the judgmental sober person glaring at everyone who looked in my direction.

As we neared the kitchen, the girl who had given Mojo a ride reappeared. She had been introduced to us as "Mary Jane" when she pulled up at the Pierce residence, but after spotting the marijuana leaf on her shirt, I assumed that that wasn't her real name.

"Hey, have you seen J?" Mojo shouted. I could barely hear her over the party noise.

"I think I saw him run into the kitchen a minute ago, but-"

"Thanks!"

"Mojo, wait! Don't go in there! The Cheer-"

But Mojo was already shoving past some drunk frat boys and barging into the kitchen. I pushed past the gorillas that were blocking my path and pulled Brittany with me into the kitchen entryway. The scene in front of me made me stop in my tracks.

Mojo was standing stock still. She looked like a street cat that had been threatened, raising her shoulders and elongating her spine to make herself look bigger.

The kitchen was full of pretty little high school girls. Most of them were wearing red shirts that said "Cheerios" in standard athletic font. The rest of them were way too dressed up for a grody house party. All of them were glaring at Mojo. Frannie and Natalie sat perched atop the kitchen island while the rest of the cheerleaders stood around them. Frannie had cut her Cheerios shirt so that her midriff was showing. Hell, that shirt was so tight and short that her topriff and her bottomriff were showing, too. Natalie had on a skin-tight striped dress that she probably stole from my mother's closet. They were clearly the HBICs of the pack.

"And _this_ is exactly why we shouldn't have come in here," Mary Jane said under her breath.

Mojo quickly recovered, roughly pushing past some of the girls as she made her way to the stack of Solo cups by Frannie's leg. She took the top cup and filled it from the keg that was sitting on the counter, keeping eye contact with Frannie the whole time.

"Howdy, Barbies," she said, addressing the group. "I guess you finally decided to step your game up and ditch the kiddie parties. I hope you're all having fun even though you weren't invited."

"Actually, this party is pretty lame," Frannie said, "but you should enjoy yourself because this is the only party you can get invited to now."

The other girls laughed loudly except for Natalie, who took a big swig of whatever was in her cup.

"Should we stop this?" I whispered to Brittany as I took a step forward. We hadn't been spotted by the kitchen door since normal party-goers were still wandering around the entryway.

She shook her head and held me back. "Not yet. I need to find out what's going on around here."

Mojo moved over to the cooler on the floor and fished out two bottles of beer. "If it's so lame, why the fuck are you here?"

Frannie looked at her nails disinterestedly. "We had a late practice and didn't feel like going out, so we're slumming it tonight. We like to see how the other half lives from time to time."

"Well, feel free to get the fuck out whenever you're ready," Mojo said, slamming the cooler shut.

"Gladly. This place is a dump anyway," one of the Barbies chirped. "Whose house is this? Your forty-year-old boyfriend's?"

"Shut the fuck up, Connors," Natalie snapped. "Nobody told you to speak."

The girl's face contorted in disgust. "What, are you like, defending her now or something?"

"Why do I hear your voice? Are you still talking?" Natalie leaned down into the girl's face. "Let's see how well I can hear you when you're at the bottom of the pyramid next week."

The other girls snickered at the threat while Connors blushed in shame and embarrassment. Properly chastised, she shut the fuck up.

Frannie went on like the whole exchange never happened. "Your pothead boytoy was just in here actually. He was looking for you. It's probably time for you to change his Depends."

Mojo rolled her eyes as she turned to leave the kitchen. "Hardy har har. You're hilarious, Frannie. I'm out of here."

"What's the rush? Are you running upstairs so you can spread your legs for a guy that's twice your age?" Frannie called out to Mojo's back.

Mojo stopped walking. "He's not twice my age and you'd know that if you would stop skipping math class to screw your boyfriend in the janitor's closet. I really hope you guys are using condoms. God knows how fertile the Fabrays are at this age."

Frannie leapt off the counter and lunged for Mojo's back. We all rushed forward. Mary Jane and I pulled Mojo out of Frannie's reach as Nat and Brittany held Frannie back. Once Mojo realized what was happening, she squirmed in my grip, trying to get loose and rip Frannie's face off.

"Fuck you!" Frannie screamed.

"Fuck you, too!" Mojo screamed back, kicking her legs wildly. She dropped her beers and they splashed all over everyone's shoes.

Some of the Cheerios tried to jump in and get to Mojo. I grabbed an empty beer bottle that was sitting on the countertop, smashed it into a worthy shank, and spun around, jabbing it wildly at the cheerleaders and flinging beer all over the place.

"Back up! I'm from Lima Heights and I _will_ cut you!" I shouted. Natalie's head snapped up at the sound of my voice.

"Santana?" She looked around and was surprised to see that Brittany was the girl helping her hold Frannie. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I jabbed my bottle at another cheerleader. "Call off your dogs!"

"Everybody calm the fuck down!" Nat shouted. Everyone except Mojo and Frannie stopped moving.

Connors rushed forward. I spun around quickly and pointed the broken bottle at her.

"If you're feelin' froggy, then leap," I taunted. "I'll go Zorro all over your face."

I slashed the bottle through the air in a "Z" formation. Frightened, Connors backed up against the refrigerator. I wasn't really going to stab that walking Bratz doll with a broken beer bottle, but hey, I really was from Lima Heights. I wouldn't have made it to adulthood if I didn't know how to pretend that I could beat somebody's ass.

Mary Jane sighed. "Come on, let's take them upstairs so they can cool off a little."

I pushed Mojo ahead of me. Brittany and Nat grabbed Frannie's arms and we followed Mary Jane out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She took us to the upstairs hall and dropped us off in a large den. It looked like a teenager's fantasy with cushy couches, beanbag chairs, video game consoles, and several mini fridges.

I sat Mojo down on a couch while Brittany and Natalie made Frannie sit on another couch.

Brittany stood between the two couches and immediately entered Big Sister mode. "I wanna know what's going on here and I wanna know now. Someone better start talking."

"Britt, what are you doing here? You're sick," Frannie said softly, looking Brittany up and down and forgetting that she wanted to kill Mojo. Brittany's limbs were shaking slightly. She took a deep breath and the shaking ceased again.

_She can't hold her muscles still forever._

"You know what's making me sick, Frannie?" She pointed at the three of them. "This is making me sick! You guys are best friends. You're like the Three Muskateers. What happened?"

"Mojo decided that she's too good for the Cheerios, so she quit the squad to become a pothead," Frannie spat. "That's what happened."

Brittany's eyes widened. "What?!"

Frannie shook her head in mock disappointment. "Got in with the wrong crowd and now she's banging some old guy and smoking doobies all day."

"They aren't 'the wrong crowd,'" Mojo said defensively. "Maybe I just got sick of being a stupid Cheery-Ho. Maybe I found some real friends."

Nat frowned. "What are you talking about, Mojo? We've always been your best friends."

"So you show that by publicly humiliating her in front of everyone?" Brittany pointed out. "We saw what you two did in the kitchen. That was totally uncalled for."

Frannie rolled her eyes. "Excuse me if I'm upset because Mojo once again put herself first and basically screwed the entire squad, especially the upperclassmen!" She whirled on Mojo. "We're never going to win Nationals without you! You just flushed everyone's cheerleading scholarships down the drain, including mine, yours, and Nat's."

The guilt Mojo felt was written all over her face. "You guys don't need me. Besides, you still have next year."

"All of our best flyers and dancers are graduating! We're gonna be lucky if we place at Regionals next year, let alone Nationals! So thanks. I needed that scholarship and you smoked it all away."

Mojo crossed her arms over her chest. "Fuck you, Frannie. I told you a million times, I'm not doing drugs."

"Yeah, right. I knew something like this would happen when you started going to the skate park all the time and hanging out with Weed-for-Brains. You were probably blazing up all summer long. They say marijuana takes away all of your drive and ambition. I guess that's true. Apparently, it also makes you attracted to the elderly."

"J is not elderly!" Mojo shouted suddenly. "He's only twenty-six, he's not my boyfriend, and I've never had sex with him! And I've never smoked weed! I don't even know why everyone is saying that! I begged Coach to let me take a drug test just so I could clear my name, but she wouldn't do it. She just said she had evidence of my 'drug abuse' and told me I was off the squad!"

"Wait, Coach kicked you out?" Frannie asked in disbelief. "You didn't quit?"

Mojo put her face in her hands. "No. I just pretended like I quit."

"Why would you do that?"

"I just… I was so confused and I didn't know what was going on. I didn't want anyone to know that I got kicked off the squad, so I just made it look like I quit." She raised her head again, starting to tear up as she looked desperately at her two best friends. "I'm so sorry, you guys. I didn't mean to screw up your scholarships and Nationals. I don't even know how this happened. If I could come back I would, but Coach said no."

"You're really not smoking pot?" Frannie asked. The glare that Mojo fixed her with clearly indicated that she was not. "Mojo… I didn't know. God, I feel like such a bitch."

Brittany stroked Mojo's head comfortingly. "I'll go down to the school and talk to Coach. I can tell her that this has all been a big mistake and we can get you back on the squad."

Mojo let out a watery laugh. "I doubt she's going to listen. I've been going to her office every day to beg for my spot back, but she won't budge."

"Why? If you didn't fail a drug test, then why does she even think that you-"

"It was me." Natalie, who had remained silent during the whole exchange, opened her mouth to say something else, but quickly closed it. A tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away hastily with the back of her hand.

Mojo leaned forward. "What was you, Nat?"

Natalie took a deep, shuddering breath. "I did it. I told Coach that I saw you smoking weed at a party."

Mojo froze. She looked stricken, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Frannie was quicker to react. "What the hell, Nat? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Why?" Mojo asked softly, locking eyes with Natalie. "Why would you lie?"

"Because I _know_, Mojo. I know about your grades. I heard you talking to the guidance counselor." Natalie shut her eyes tightly as Mojo paled. "I know you're not going to graduate next year."

Mojo's face contorted in anger for only a brief second before she burst into tears.

Instead of her typical explosive reaction, Frannie whispered "oh my god" and slid down in her seat.

"I just wanted to help!" Nat tried to explain. "I know you, Mojo. Whenever you have trouble with schoolwork, you drown yourself in Cheerios routines so you don't have to think about it. You're too proud to ask for help or let anyone tutor you. I couldn't watch you do it anymore. I got you kicked off the squad so you could focus on your schoolwork."

I was so preoccupied with the drama unfolding before me that I almost didn't see Brittany turn ghostly pale and sit down hard on the coffee table. I bent down so that we were eye-to-eye. She was looking right through me.

"Britt? Brittany? What's wrong?" I waved my hand in front of her face to get her attention.

"How did this happen?" Brittany choked out breathlessly. "How did I let this happen?"

"Britt, calm down," I whispered. "Take a deep breath, okay? You're gonna pass out."

Brittany took several deep breaths through her nose. Mojo blindly wandered into Brittany's arms and Brittany wrapped her up in a hug so tight, it could've broken bones.

"It's okay, Mojo," she whispered hoarsely. "It's okay. We can talk to your teachers. There's gotta be some extra credit or something-"

"There's nothing I can do. I already checked. There's no way I can fix my grades in time." A fresh round of sobs ripped through Mojo and she gripped Brittany harder. "I screwed up, Britt. I screwed everything up! I'm not gonna graduate!"

"Sweetie, it's gonna be fine." Brittany locked eyes with me as she spoke softly to her sister. "Not graduating isn't the end of the world. You can stay another year and everything will be just fine. If I made it through this, so can you."

Even in the dim lighting of the basement, I could see Brittany's face turning red. She never broke eye contact, watching my face intently.

Mojo sobbed harder. "I tried! I swear I tried! I'm just too stupid."

Brittany's eyes narrowed. "You are _not_ stupid and I don't ever want to hear you say that again, do you understand me?"

"Britt-"

"No. We're all going to help you study the way Quinn helped me. You're going to get your diploma and you're going to go to college if you want to. What you're not going to do is sit here and tell me that you're not smart enough because I know you are." She smiled weakly as she blinked back tears. "I'm not gonna let you write yourself off, okay? Dad always said that Pierces are just wired differently. You're different, Maureen Josephine, and that's why everyone in this room loves you."

Natalie stood, straightening her too-tight dress and walking over to the Pierces. "I'm so sorry, Mojo. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"I wish you had talked to me about it," Mojo said through her sniffles.

"Yeah, what kind of crazy-ass half-baked scheme was that?" Frannie asked.

Natalie looked embarrassed and frustrated. "I don't know. I figured Judy would freak out a lot less about you smoking pot than you not graduating. I thought she would probably ground you forever or something and I could force you to study with me."

"Judy knows?" Brittany asked.

"Oh, she knows," Mojo snorted. "It's been one shit show after another. You guys went missing, Dad started drinking, I got kicked off the squad and accused of doing drugs. She was so pissed. She hit the Judy Button and left."

"She'll come back when Quinn wakes up," Frannie said with all the certainty of Ms. Cleo.

"I've got some money saved under my mattress." Natalie was talking to her shoes, apparently. "In case you need it. If it goes on too long. You know."

Everyone avoided eye contact until Frannie acknowledged Natalie's statement with a quiet, "thanks, Nat."

She turned to Mojo. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch. I really thought you were quitting Cheerios just because you felt like it. If I had known what was going on, I would've helped you in a heartbeat. You know that, right? That I love you?"

Mojo nodded. "I do. I'm sorry, too."

Natalie was still off to the side, looking like she expected to be yelled and screamed at.

Mojo rolled her eyes. "Come here, you goof. We love you, too, even if your idea was batshit crazy."

The Three Muskateers embraced. Despite their declarations of love, it didn't seem like it was going to be so easy to patch things back together. Mojo still seemed a little off-balance, a little wary of her best friends who had schemed behind her back and thrown her to the high school wolves. Natalie looked like a dog that expected to be hit with a newspaper at any moment. Frannie seemed worried in general, which would make sense because her sister was in a coma, her mom had flown the coop, and her "dad" had relapsed.

I could tell that Brittany was still shaken up about Mojo's situation. I jerked my head toward the door. She glanced over at the others before following me out into the hallway. I shut the door behind us.

"You okay?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm really, really, really upset with myself right now."

"This isn't your fault, B."

"It is. I wasn't paying enough attention," she said dejectedly. "I didn't want Mojo to go through the same thing that I went through." Her cheeks started to burn bright red. "I don't think any Pierce has graduated high school on time. My parents were hippies. Too much free love, not enough studying." She sighed. "I was on track at first, but I couldn't catch up after sophomore year."

"What happened sophomore year?" I asked.

Brittany frowned a little and glanced towards the door to the den. "Quinn got pregnant."

"Oh."

_That is not what I thought she was going to say._

"Things were really out of control for a while." She glanced at the door again. "I don't think we should talk about this here."

"It's okay, we don't have to," I said. "We can talk about it later or not at all. Whatever you want."

"Thanks." She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug. As she pulled back, I moved forward, kissing her gently on the lips. The kiss was short, but sweet.

Her eyes opened slowly and blinked a few times before her head snapped up. She quickly dropped her hands from my neck and stepped back, glaring over my shoulder. The quick change in her demeanor startled me.

_Fuck, did one of the girls see us?_

I spun around quickly. Some goofy kid was standing halfway down the hall holding a stack of freshly laundered towels under his arm. He had a big smile on his face and long, brown dreadlocks gathered into a ponytail behind his head. A cross dangled from his hemp necklace and his shirt proudly proclaimed in bold letters "Jesus Loves You!" He stood there like an idiot for a good ten seconds.

"What's up with Teen Jesus?" Brittany whispered.

"I don't know, but he needs to get lost."

I glared at him. He didn't catch the hint.

"Hi, can I help you?" I snapped, sounding neither helpful nor genuinely concerned.

The smile slowly disappeared as he realized that we weren't excited to catch him leering at us.

"Sorry, ladies. Didn't mean to creep. I was looking for a friend, thought you were her." He walked over to us and set his stack of towels on the ground. "Are you Brittany?"

"Um… why?" Brittany asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You have to be Brittany. You look so much like Maureen that you couldn't be anyone else." His smile widened. "I just want you to know that your sister is a wonderful young lady and she has been a most excellent companion for the past few months. It's been an honor and a privilege-"

"Who are you?" Brittany interrupted.

"Oh! My bad. I didn't even introduce myself." He stuck his hand out. "The name's Joe Hart, but everybody calls me J. Pleased to-"

Brittany punched him in the face.

I didn't even realize what happened until Joe tripped over his towels, hit the floor, and grabbed his eye. Brittany was shaking her hand out and shifting her weight from foot to foot, swearing under her breath.

Brittany Non-Confrontational Pierce had punched Not-Actually-A-Teen Jesus in the face.

I was so shocked, I started laughing. "Brittany, what the hell?"

Brittany wasn't paying attention to me. She hovered over Joe Hart like a lion about to rip the throat out of a wounded gazelle.

"Ow!" Joe said, carefully touching his eye. "Why did you do that?!"

"My sister is almost ten years younger than you, you sicko," she hissed. "Don't you _dare_ walk over here and shake my hand."

Joe sat up, looking dazed and confused. "I think you have the wrong idea-"

Brittany grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back to the ground. "No, I think _you_ have the wrong idea if you think what you're doing is okay!"

She reached for him again, but I held her back. The door next to us opened and Mojo, Frannie, and Natalie walked into the hallway. Mojo saw Joe on the floor and was at his side in a flash.

"J, what's wrong? What happened?"

He said nothing and pointed up at Brittany.

Mojo looked from Joe to Brittany in horror. "Did you… did you _hit him?_"

"This man is older than _me_, Mojo," Brittany spat. "He's got no business sleeping with young girls!"

Joe looked horrified. "Maureen, what the heck did you tell her about me?"

"Not that!" Mojo stood up and whirled on her sister. "Brittany, I already told you! J and I aren't sleeping together! That's just a rumor that some idiot at school started."

Frannie looked at the ground awkwardly as Natalie glared at her.

_I guess we know who the idiot is._

Brittany opened her mouth to interrupt, but Mojo plowed on. "He hasn't even tried anything with me. He's the perfect gentleman." She looked extremely disappointed and displeased with that fact. "We're just friends, so if you could calm down and stop acting like a psycho, I'd really appreciate it."

Brittany's eyes darted between Joe and Mojo. Her hands clenched and unclenched themselves as she continued to shift her weight restlessly. I could tell that she was trying her hardest not to push Mojo out of the way and hit this guy again.

"Brittany."

Brittany stopped fidgeting and looked straight into her sister's pleading eyes.

"I'm telling you the truth. He's a good guy."

For what it was worth, I was inclined to believe her. Typically, a guy who's sleeping with an underage girl isn't going to come over to introduce himself, and Mojo's disappointment seemed genuine.

Brittany mulled it over for a minute before dropping her combat stance. "Fine. But if you ever try anything with my sister, Joe Hart, I swear to God I will hunt you down and punch you in the other eye."

_We've gotta work on her threats. "Razor blades in my hair" has never failed me._

Joe nodded vigorously as he stood. "I would gladly let you punch me in the eye before I would ever try anything with Maureen. I value our friendship and my freedom too much to let anything like that happen. I am not at all interested in pursuing a sexual relationship with your sister."

"This is so embarrassing," Mojo muttered under her breath. Her frown was deeper than the Grand Canyon, but as soon as Joe smiled at her, her face lit up and her expression softened.

_Wow, she's got it bad._

"I need to get these towels downstairs," Joe said, picking up the stack from the floor.

"Yeah, let's get back to the party before someone does something embarrassing and we miss it," Natalie said.

"Come on, J." Mojo held his elbow and led him by the arm even though he was perfectly capable of guiding himself. "Let's go put some ice on that eye."

She sent Brittany a pointed glare and Brittany just shrugged, no fucks given. The group headed toward the stairs that would lead them back to the party.

"If that's the J we're looking for, we still need to talk to him," I whispered to Brittany.

"We need to get him away from Mojo first," she said. "She's not going to let me get within five feet of him."

"Probably because you punched him in the face."

"I'd do it again."

"How's your hand?"

She held her hand up and I grabbed it with both of mine. Her knuckles were swelling and her skin was starting to bruise.

I let out a low whistle. "Jeez, Britt. That looks bad. You should heal this."

"How do I do that?" She looked at her hand like she'd never seen before.

"Just send energy to your hand and concentrate on the places that hurt."

She nodded and closed her eyes. Her mouth tightened into a thin line. We stood in silence for a while.

"Did it work?" I brushed my thumb over her knuckles and she winced. "Yikes. Sorry."

"I guess I didn't do it right," she said with a frown.

"It's okay, I'll take care of it." I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it like she did to mine after Shamu the Cat attacked me. Of course it didn't heal her, but I was feeling sappy.

She bit her lip and smiled shyly at me. "You're cute."

I couldn't stop my goofy smile from taking over my whole face.

"Now you're even cuter."

I laughed. "Stop, you're gonna make me blush. Not that you'd see it, but I'll know and that's what matters."

"Okay, okay." She lowered our hands and carefully took her hand from mine. "We need to focus."

"Right. So how are we going to get Joe away from Mojo?"

Brittany's brow furrowed. "We'll need to distract her somehow and then pull him away when she's not looking."

"How are we going to do that?"

"I think I may have an idea."

* * *

><p>I went to college for one year and if I learned anything, it's this:<p>

If you slip a college freshman a five dollar bill, he will do many, many things for you.

If you slip a college freshman a five dollar bill and wink at him suggestively, he will jump in front of a bullet for you and die smiling.

"Well, I feel dirty," I muttered to Brittany as the college freshman slipped my money into his front pocket. He returned my wink in the creepiest possible fashion and my soul vomited.

The college freshman in question was the DJ for the night, playing songs from his iPod through the house sound system. He looked at me expectantly and held out his phone. The Youtube app was ready and waiting.

"You ready, ladies?"

Brittany took his phone, typed in her search, and selected a video. She handed him his phone back as YouTube loaded up the video, causing the party music to stop completely. There were groans and shouts from around the room.

"What the fuck, dude?"

"Turn the music back on!"

"You suck!"

The DJ shook his head. "I'm gonna get my ass kicked."

YouTube finished its buffering and began to play that party playlist staple from yesteryear, the Cha Cha Slide.

Another thing I learned in college: there are people in the world who physically cannot resist a line dancing song.

The party had been crashed by a lot of high schoolers who were too cool for things like line dancing. Fortunately for us, Brittany knew that Mojo and Frannie loved the Cha Cha Slide. As soon as it came on, Frannie got up and yelled "let's get funky, funky, funky," which was a very good sign. Mojo had been hovering nearby, close enough to talk to Frannie and Nat, but far enough away from the rest of the Cheerios to keep the peace. As soon as Frannie got up, a huge smile broke out on Mojo's face. She followed Frannie to a less packed area of the dance floor and joined her just as it was time to take it back now, y'all. Nat shook her head and laughed as she stood up and adjusted her Post-It-sized dress so that she could dance with her besties.

Brittany took off through the crowd. I gave the DJ a thumbs-up and followed her. The high schoolers, even the cheerleaders who had originally scoffed when the song came on, were now flocking to the floor in droves (now that the most popular girls in school were dancing). It made it that much easier to slip around the sides of the room.

Joe was sitting on the arm of a couch with his stack of towels, content to tap his foot to the beat and leave the dancing to the others. I reached out and hooked his arm with mine, jerking him to his feet as we walked past.

"Ow!" he yelped. "What are you-"

"You're coming with us," I said.

Brittany stopped in her tracks and quickly spun around, waving me backwards. "Wait, go the other way!"

"Why?"

The entire group of line dancers all turned to the left at the same time and they were now facing in the direction that we had been walking.

"Mojo's going to see us leaving!" she said. "Go the other way!"

"Right. Come on, slim." I spun Joe around and we walked around and behind the dancers. We waited for them to turn left again and pushed our way through the onlookers, down the hall, and out the back door. We exited onto the screened-in porch. No one was there, but there were a bunch of people in the backyard, playing Frisbee and swimming in the pool.

Joe cleared his throat. "I don't mean to be rude, dude, but can you tell me what's going on?"

"We needed to talk to you," I said, releasing his arm. "Privately."

"Oh. You could've just asked. You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

Brittany frowned. "It was necessary. Mojo is never going to let me be alone with you again if she can help it. We should make this quick before she realizes that we're gone."

"Ok, what can I help you ladies with?" Joe asked politely. His eye was swelling pretty badly.

"You gave my sister a button," Brittany said flatly. "Where did you get it?"

Joe hummed in thought. "A button? I've given her a lot of buttons. I gave her a big one last night."

Brittany crossed her arms tightly around herself like a strait jacket. "Santana, I'm going to strangle him," she whispered in a sing-song tone.

"I don't think that was supposed to be sexual," I said.

Joe nodded. "Brittany, I'd like to reassure you that I am not interested in a sexual relationship with your sister. I'll say that as many times as you need to hear it. I was once a wild teenager, but those days are behind me now."

"Yeah, because you're freaking 26," Brittany grumbled.

"Through my faith-journey, I've redoubled my efforts to be more Christ-like. That includes a vow of celibacy and sobriety. I haven't smoked, drank, or fornicated in five years. I don't even… you know… help myself."

I made a face. "Alright, Joe Jonas, we get it. TMI. Let's get back to the button."

"The Transformer," Brittany added. "Cannabis Prime."

Joe froze. "What do you know about Cannabis Prime?" he asked incredulously.

"We know all about Mr. Prime," Brittany put her hands on her hips and Joe stepped away from her, "and we want to know what you know about him."

He looked between the two of us suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because we're looking for Marley Rose," I said bluntly. "We need to find her."

Joe dropped the towels and took off sprinting towards the door to the yard. Brittany quickly raised her hand up and yanked it back like she was pulling on an invisible rope. Joe's feet flew up into the air and he fell to the floor with a thud. We were on him before he could even roll over to get up.

"I already don't like you, Joe. Running away right now is going to make me like you even less," Brittany threatened.

"Dude, your violent vibes are totally throwing off my inner peace," Joe croaked. Something seemed to dawn on him and he narrowed his eyes at Brittany. "Something pulled my foot. Was that you? Did you make me fall?"

Brittany paled at his accusation, losing some of her anger. "I-I-"

His eyes widened in terror. "You must be one of those Snickers people!"

_3._

"First of all, it's SNIX, not Snickers," I said, as my eyes flickered with white-hot light. "Secondly, she's not SNIX'd. I am and you're gonna tell me where Marley Rose is before I vaporize your head."

_Now _that's_ how you threaten people!_

No one was close enough to see or hear what was going on, so I leaned over Joe until he flattened himself against the ground.

"Crap, man! She said this was gonna happen! Don't hurt me, please!" Joe whined.

"Shut up!" Brittany hissed. "Someone's gonna hear you!"

"Please, please, don't hurt me," he whispered.

I leaned over further. "Then tell me what I want to know, Joe. Where is Marley Rose?"

"I can't!" he said frantically. "I can't!"

I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "Focus, Joe. We need to talk to her. It's important."

Joe was just lying under me, shaking and mumbling.

"Joe," Brittany said quietly, "Marley's friends are sick and hurting. Only she can help them. They need her. We're not going to hurt her."

He looked at her skeptically. "You punched me in the face."

"True, but Marley isn't a 26-year-old man that hangs out with my sister. I don't want to punch her in the face. If I don't talk to Marley, I'm probably going to go into a coma and die, so hurting her wouldn't help me very much, now would it?"

"I guess not."

"My best friend is really sick. I don't think she has much time left. I think Marley can bring her back to me. It's really, really important that we see her."

Joe looked back and forth between us, flinching slightly every time he caught my eye.

"Okay," he agreed finally. "Marley wouldn't want anyone to die, you know? Sounds like bad juju."

I backed off so that he could stand up. As he gathered his scattered towels up from the ground, I turned to Brittany. "You do realize that it's against the rules to switch between bad cop and good cop, right?"

"Well, you went from good cop to scary cop. I saw an opening and I took it. You're just mad because scary cop didn't work."

"No, I'm mad that good cop worked even though you started this whole encounter by punching the guy in the face."

She shrugged. "I stand by that decision."

Brittany grinned at me and I grinned back at her, which caused her eyes to drop to my lips. Joe cleared his throat.

"Are you ladies ready to go?" he asked.

"Sure," Brittany said awkwardly. "By the way, Joe? What you saw earlier in the hall? That, uh, that kiss? You didn't see that. Got it?"

"Hey, no judgment here," he said with a shrug. "Love is love."

We both glanced at each other and away upon hearing the "L-word" thrown around so loosely.

"It's not your judgment I'm worried about," she said. "Just don't mention it to Mojo."

He mimed zipping his lips shut with an imaginary zipper. "My lips are sealed. Come on, let's head out back. Marley's probably wondering where I am anyway."

We walked out of the enclosed porch and into the yard. In the farthest, darkest corner of the yard there was a large, rusty shed and Joe was leading us directly to it.

_Because this isn't creepy._

When we got to the shed, he banged on door twice, causing a shower of rust flakes to fall to the ground. I almost asked him if he'd had a tetanus shot recently, but I decided not to.

"Open up!" he shouted. "Let us in!"

A few seconds later, the door creaked open the tiniest bit. A single eyeball appeared in the crack. It darted between the four of us frantically.

"Who is it?" the eyeball's owner demanded in a voice that could only be described as "crusty."

"Just open the door, dude," Joe huffed.

The gatekeeper stepped back and opened the door for us. It was dark inside.

"Screw that, I'm not going in there!" I hissed.

"It's fine," Joe assured me. "It's just the shed. Everyone's too stoned to bother you anyway."

He was right. I stuck my head inside and the shed was full of college football players and college cheerleaders taking bong hits. These weren't your normal, everyday bongs. They were huge. Some people were standing on chairs just to use them.

Joe handed the towels to a group of guys near the door who appeared to have broken their bong.

One guy quickly got on the floor and started mopping up the mess. "'Bout time you came back! You left a billion years ago, bro!"

"Clean up the bong water," Joe instructed. "When you're done, throw the towels in that chute in the corner and throw the glass in the trash can. Make sure to get all of the water up!"

He led us through the throng of people to another door which opened up to a set of stairs. As soon as we were all crammed onto the landing at the top of the steps, he closed the door behind us and pressed a button. Something loud and metallic clanged into place.

"Did you just lock us in here?" I hissed.

"No, I locked them out of here," Joe said sagely.

"…okay, now _I_ want to punch you in the face."

"Chill, ladies. No worries."

He fearlessly descended the stairs into the darkness and we had no choice but to follow. There was a thick metal door at the bottom of the steps which opened automatically as we approached. It slid shut behind us.

"Welcome, J," a robotic voice said in greeting.

"'Sup, computer lady," Joe replied.

The room below the shed was super tiny. There was wooden door on the other side of the room with an intercom next to it. Joe pressed the button next to it.

"Yo, Marley. You got some visitors."

We waited, but there was no reply. That wasn't surprising. Music was booming loudly from the other side of the door, so no one would've heard the intercom.

He pressed the button again. "Yo. Marley."

There was no reply. Joe glared at the intercom like it was somehow at fault.

"What's that smell?" Brittany asked, sniffing the air.

It smelled like weed (obviously), but there was second smell that was beginning to overpower the scent of burning ganja. It was the scent of plain old _burning_.

Joe's eyes widened. "Step back!" He pushed us back and lifted his leg, slamming a punishing kick down at the door's seam. It popped open and he rushed into the next room.

"Marley! Marley!"

We rushed in after him. The room was hazy and filled with smoke. I couldn't see where he'd gone, so I ran straight ahead. The haze cleared a little bit and I saw too late the giant pool of murky water that I was a step away from falling into.

"Shit, shit, shit!" I screamed, pinwheeling my arms and trying to stop the inevitable.

I fell forward and just as I was about to hit the water, my body was jerked about a foot upwards. I was hovering in the air above the surface of the pool, staring at my wide-eyed reflection. The last time I fell into a pool of strange liquid, it wasn't a pleasant experience.

"Are you okay?" Brittany called from the edge of the pool.

"Yeah," I panted. "I think I'm alright. You're doing this, right?"

"Uh-huh!" Her voice was more than slightly strained. "I'm trying."

"Can you, uh, pull me back please?" I felt like I was going to vomit.

"Ok, hold on. Let me just-" She let out a loud grunt and suddenly, I was flung backwards. I collided with her and we both went tumbling to the ground. I carefully pulled myself off of her and helped her to her feet.

"Sorry," she panted, trying to catch her breath.

I patted her on the back unhelpfully. "No, no, that was great! Whenever you see me about to fall into something, feel free to stop that from happening."

Suddenly, Joe sprinted past us, almost wiping out and slipping into the pool himself. He skidded to a stop in front of a cabinet on the wall. He ripped the door open and began to throw things haphazardly behind him until he finally found a fire extinguisher. He ran back the way he came, ignoring us completely as he passed. Brittany and I took off behind him.

It didn't take us long to reach the source of the smoke. There was a stove pushed up against the wall with giant flames springing up around all of the burners. Joe pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher and doused the stove in white foam. Once the fire was out, he turned off all of the burners. He pressed a button and the air began to clear as the smoke was sucked up into the exhaust hood above the stove. Without a word, he stormed across the room. There was a large stereo system stacked against the other wall. He punched the power button and the loud music stopped.

Not-So-Teen Jesus was on a whole new level of angry. I didn't know the guy, but his livid expression seemed so out of place on his normally serene face that I was a little scared.

A shadowy figure emerged from the haze. "What the heck are you yelling about, J? I'm trying to sleep."

The girl walking out of the smoke cloud looked exactly like the picture that Figgins had given us… except not. The Marley Rose in the photograph was perfectly polished and looked every bit of the young scientist that her file proclaimed her to be. _This_ Marley Rose was something else entirely. Her pale blue eyes were bloodshot and heavy. Her lab coat was missing, replaced with a flannel shirt that was so ratty, Kurt Cobain would've tossed it in the trash. She was clearly high.

"Marley, what the flip are you doing?" Jesus-Lite shouted. "You almost burned the whole place down!"

_Yeah, Marley. What the flip?_

Marley walked over to the stove and blinked blearily at it, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "Shit. My s'mores."

Joe tugged at his own hair like he was restraining himself from ripping it all out of his scalp. "S'mores. You decided to make s'mores. And then you went to sleep."

Marley shrugged. "Just a little weed nap."

Joe took a few deep breaths as he lowered himself to the floor. He sat down in a cross-legged position, put his hands on his knees, straightened his back, and closed his eyes.

"What is he doing?" Brittany asked.

Marley's head jerked up. She looked surprised that we were in the room. She opened her mouth to reply, but once her eyes landed on me, she froze. "It's- it's _you_."

She recognized me. Not from some picture that had been kept in Figgins's files. She recognized me because she had chosen the special courier. Marley had chosen _me._

_2._

An unexpected wave of anger came over me. I quickly closed the distance between us, but Brittany jumped in front of me and grabbed my shoulders. Marley cowered behind her, shaking like a leaf.

"Yeah, it's me," I sneered. "Surprised? Didn't think we'd ever meet in person, did you?"

Marley started to back away from us, but Brittany reached back and grabbed her arm.

"No. You stay there," Brittany commanded. She stared directly into my eyes until I started to feel uncomfortable. "What are you gonna do, Santana? Beat her up?"

"I don't know," I grumbled petulantly. "I kinda want to beat her up."

Her blue eyes felt like they were boring deep into my soul. "But you would feel bad beating up someone who couldn't possibly defend herself against you, right?"

"You punched Joe-sus Christ in the face," I reminded her for the tenth time, avoiding her attempts to guilt me into being a better person.

"That's in the past," she said dismissively.

"It happened like, an hour ago."

"Not the point." She leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. "You're a billion times stronger than her, San. You could kill her and I know you're not mad enough at her to want that, are you?"

I shrugged half-heartedly. "I'd get over it."

"Well, we need her. Maybe you don't, but Quinn, Puck, Ben, and David do. I do. So don't hurt her, okay?"

I sighed, letting my shoulders drop and signaling to Brittany that she could let go of me. She stepped out of the way, rubbing my back because I had been a good puppy. Even without mind control, Brittany had me wrapped around her little finger.

Marley let out her own sigh of relief. I glared at her and her sigh caught in her throat.

"Don't get too excited," I snapped. "This isn't a courtesy call."

Marley nodded. "I realize that. There's no way that you of all people would even know about me unless McKinley was involved."

Brittany, satisfied that I wouldn't pounce, turned around to face Marley. "They sent us to look for you. They need your help."

"Out of Goo, right?" Marley gestured to the huge space behind her. "Believe me, I know."

The space behind Marley was at least the length of a football field. It looked like your typical laboratory. There were rows and rows of black tables covered in lab glassware. Chemicals were reacting and Bunsen burners were lit. I was actually surprised that the S'mores were the only thing that had burst into flames while Marley was asleep. Lined up along one wall were the large metal barrels that the Goo was always stored in. Each one had a date written on it in permanent marker.

While the front half of the room was occupied by Marley's lab and the dirty water pool, the back half of the room was fully dedicated to growing weed. I'm not talking about cute little potted plants that you could put on your desk at work. I'm talking about actual marijuana _trees_. It looked like an indoor, potted cornfield of weed.

Marley kept talking like we weren't standing in the largest grow house in Ohio.

"Every time I finish a batch of Goo, I mark it with the date." She pointed at the last barrel in the row. I recognized the date on it immediately.

_That's the day before I was kidnapped_.

"See? This is the last date that you completed your route. So now you understand why I can't send the Goo back to them."

Brittany raised her hand. "Um… I don't understand."

"The only person who understands is the one that's high," I muttered.

"No, the only person who understands is the one who developed this courier system to keep us all safe," Marley snapped.

My eyebrows shot up and I tilted my head to the side.

_3._

Brittany slid between us before I could even reach out and touch Marley.

"We need her, San," Brittany reminded me.

Marley was lucky that Brittany was there. I'm not known for my self-control.

"Excuse the fuck out of me," I spat, "but what part of your shitty courier system was supposed to keep _me_ safe?"

Marley looked at my glowing eyes, shocked. "What- you got SNIX'd? Why? How?"

"Oh you know, just a little freak accident that happened when I got kidnapped on the job by some rich psycho who figured out your fucking super safe courier system and thought I was working for you."

"That is not my fault!" Marley protested. "I was trying to keep us all off of the military's radar in case they decided that they wanted to throw Tina and Dr. Figgins back in jail and maybe take the rest of us with them this time!"

"You're quite possibly the most paranoid person I've ever met," I said. "Have you always been this nuts or did McKinley do this to you?"

"I'm not paranoid. I was there when Artie betrayed us. I watched the McKinley Project fall apart. Was I supposed to wait around for Artie to set me up, too?" She shook her head. "I left and I've been looking over my shoulder ever since."

"And you think the military has no idea that you guys are still making Goo and doing shady business to make money?"

"Whatever McKinley does to make money is none of my business and I have nothing to do with any of that. Nobody can prove that I'm even involved with them unless they figure out that I'm helping with the Goo," she said smugly.

"Your system can't be all that great if Kurt figured it out," Brittany pointed out. "And we tracked you down in like, two seconds."

"That's because my stupid brother doesn't know how to keep people out," she called to Joe.

Brittany looked back and forth between them. "You're related?"

"Joe is my half-brother," Marley said unenthusiastically. "There's not much resemblance because neither of us look like our mom. You've seen her."

"Who? Your mom?" I looked around, wondering if Marley's mom was going to pop up like an unexpected Maury guest.

"Yeah, my mom runs Thrash," Marley said. "She's the older lady with the tattoos."

"What's Thrash?" Brittany asked.

"It's the skate shop where I send the Goo," she explained. "David sends me empty barrels. I send him back full ones and some chamber equipment."

"Your mom runs- _Christ_, Marley!" I covered my face with my hands. "So you, Figgins' former grad student, make Goo in your brother's house, send stuff from _here_ to your mother's business, and you wonder how Kurt figured out where the fuck everything was coming from?"

Marley stared at me blankly for a second before saying, "oh. Whoops."

I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. "I'm going to kill her, B."

"Santana," Brittany warned.

"No! She was the one who came up with this bullshit system that I could've figured out in five minutes on _Zillow_!"

"Shit, shit, shit. Look, I can fix this." Marley's eyes were shut tight and she was pulling at her hair. "I'll figure it out. Have David lay low for a while and I'll contact you in-" she glanced at her watch "-three months."

"Three months?" Brittany whirled around. "We don't have three months! We need Goo now! Even if we take the Goo that you already made, it'll only be enough for a few weeks!"

Marley folded her arms defiantly. "I know you guys are in a tight spot, but I'm not going to prison for you or anyone else. For all I know, you could've led the military police right to my front door! You have to do this my way or I can't help you."

Brittany shook her head. "If you disappear, I'm going to die."

"Then it was nice meeting you and I hope you enjoy the rest of your life," Marley said coldly.

I laughed, the sound of which startled Marley. She looked at me warily.

_4._

"_Marley, Marley, Marley,"_ I chuckled creepily. _"If you think that you have options or any input into this decision at all, you are sadly mistaken. I was perfectly content to let you chill out in your little hidey hole and just come pick up Goo from you whenever we needed it, but if you're a flight risk, then you're gonna have to come with us."_

Marley blinked at the brightness of my eyes and I could see her actually shaking. "Y-you can't threaten me and you can't kidnap me!"

"_You know, I've learned very recently that you can pretty much threaten and kidnap anyone you want to. Thanks for setting me up with that little lesson."_

"Look, I take it back, okay?" She was panicking. "I-I'll stay here. I won't leave. I'll stay in this house and you can just pick up the Goo from me directly. No couriers. I'll stay, I swear to God!"

Her voice was cracking and I could see tears forming in her eyes.

_God, I hate being the scary cop._

"_I wish I could believe that, Marley, but I don't. You've got a history of putting your own safety before the group. The second we leave, you'll take off. I can't trust you. So pack up your shit. We're leaving."_

"Pack my shit? How- I don't even- my lab!"

"_Figgins has a lab. You don't need most of this stuff. We can send the guys back to get anything you need after we get everyone Juiced again. Get some clothes and throw them in a bag. Let's go."_

Joe, the immovable stone man, finally cracked open an eye. "What about the weed?"

"_I thought you didn't smoke weed, Mr. Sobriety."_

Finally finished with his meditation, he stood up and stretched his legs. "I don't. You need weed to make the Goo."

I looked from Brittany to Marley to Joe, hoping that I'd heard wrong. _"Excuse me? What did you just say?"_

"I guess it doesn't matter now. I might as well tell you," Marley huffed. "The two components that make up the Goo don't really play nicely together. Through, um, an accidental discovery if you will, we found that the liquid remnants of smoking cannabis will minimize the reaction and make a more manageable mixture."

Brittany looked around the lab and laughed. "So basically the Goo is made out of bong water?"

"Not exactly, but yes."

"_Sweet Lord."_ I rubbed my temples. _"I quit. I quit life. I quit the planet Earth."_

"That's why we have these huge parties every week," Joe said. "Get a whole bunch of people together, give them free weed, and you'll have more bong water then you'll know what to do with. Make it trendy, right? Put the cool kids in 'the shed', the jocks and cheerleaders. Then everybody will want the honor and privilege of coming out here and producing all of this lovely, free fuel."

"So you're not a pothead, just a drug dealer," Brittany deadpanned.

"We're giving it away for free. I don't think that counts as dealing."

"_I think this meadow of marijuana would get you slapped with 'intent to distribute' if you got caught, so yeah, you're a dealer. Anyway, we don't have room for your damn weed nursery or your storage tank of bong water. We're gonna have to send Figgins and the Sunshine Band back here to get it. Get your most important items and let's go."_

Marley stormed angrily across the room, opened a closet door, and came back with two big, black duffel bags. She dropped one in front of Joe. "Ready."

Brittany looked at her incredulously. "You already had a bag packed?"

"You never know when you'll need to make a quick getaway," she said simply.

"_Alright, Crazy, let's go."_

* * *

><p>We left after the party ended. Marley and Joe had a van that was parked down the street from their house. It was what Joe used to buy new metal barrels and it held about eight barrels of Goo comfortably. A ninth and tenth barrel went into Puck's crapmobile. I drove the van and since there wasn't room for anything else, Brittany had to chauffeur the Bobbsey twins back to the warehouse in the other car.<p>

I warned them not to try any funny stuff like trying to escape or hurt Brittany while she was driving. I even demonstrated my super speed and strength for them by loading up the van and car myself as fast as I could (and as discreetly as possible in case the neighbors were watching). After seeing me lift barrels of Goo like they were barrels of air, Marley was a lot less rowdy.

When we got to the warehouse, I pulled the van up to the loading dock and hopped out. When we got inside, Tina was waiting by the entrance.

"Oh thank God," she said, letting out a sigh of relief. "We thought something had happened. With you, something is bound to happen."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered. I stepped to the side and gestured to the two people standing behind Brittany and I. "We found your friends, TV's Blossom and Jesus of Nazareth."

Tina's face brightened, but she quickly dampened the excitement in her expression. She walked toward Marley slowly as if she was afraid to frighten her. "Marley," she said softly, "it's so good to see you."

Marley was looking squarely at her own feet. Joe just looked confused. He stuck out his hand and stepped forward.

"Hey, you must be Tina. I'm Joe, Marley's brother. I met some of the other guys at a meeting we had awhile back, but you weren't there."

She smiled kindly at him. "It's nice to meet you, Joe. I've heard a lot about you."

Joe glanced over at his sister and lowered his voice. "She feels bad, you know? For leaving and what not."

"Well, she doesn't have to feel bad," Tina said, directing her response at Marley. "Nobody blames her for what happened. It's water under the bridge."

Before Marley could move away, Tina snared her in the world's tightest hug. They didn't break apart for a while and when they finally did, Marley discreetly wiped tears from her eyes. The precious moment was quickly disrupted as the rest of the McKinley crew entered the room.

It was beyond awkward to watch as everyone had a semi-emotional reunion with the prodigal daughter. Even though Marley was exuding guilt and shame, no one had a bad word to say to her. No one cussed her out for ditching them or putting this crazy scheme into place and refusing to contact them any other way. No one called her a coward for hiding out in her basement. Everyone just hugged the crap out of her. Joe was smiling so hard, his face could've cracked in half.

"So what brings you all the way out here, Ms. Rose?" Figgins asked excitedly. "I'd assumed that even if Santana and Brittany were able to find you, you would prefer to remain 'under the radar,' as they say."

I'd never seen him so giddy and bubbly before. It was weird.

Brittany blushed. "Um, about that…we kinda sorta kidnapped her. Maybe. A little bit."

Figgins gasped. If he had been wearing pearls, he would've clutched them. "Ladies, it was never my intention for you to bring Marley here against her will! I merely wanted to reestablish contact. While I'm glad that we've all gotten a chance to reunite, I would never have authorized an abduction!"

"It's okay," Marley assured him. "I'm just- I can't stay. I don't think it's safe for us to all be together like this."

David rubbed her shoulder gently. "Marley, it's fine. Do you still think the military is looking for us after all these years?"

"You never know," she said. "If you guys are still doing the same things for money that you were doing when we met up two years ago, then I'd be surprised if they're not looking for you. They just don't know that it's _you_ they're looking for."

Ben was facing away from everyone, letting the hood of his sweatshirt obscure the view of his face. "We're good at what we do, Marley. We're not going to get caught."

"Until someone rats you out," Marley said darkly.

"That's not going to happen again," Puck assured her.

Himanshu nodded. "Everybody here is in the Circle of Trust."

_That's funny. None of you are in my Circle of Trust._

I wasn't pleased to see the whole McKinley team embracing this girl who had basically ditched them at their lowest point. Brittany, as if sensing my thought, reached out and discreetly put her hand on the small of my back. I didn't know what it meant. It seemed like she was just reminding me that she was there.

"Marley, you don't have to stay here if you don't want to," Tina said, giving me the evil eye, "but we really do need you. Puck and Brittany have been infected with a weird type of spore. If they ever Lapse, they'll go into a coma that we haven't figured out how to reverse yet."

Marley's eyes darted around the room, clearly conflicted with the choice in front of her. "I guess I can stay for a bit. Maybe we can get enough Goo made and we'll figure out a better way to do this from now on. I just can't stay very long. We'll need to work quickly."

"Excellent!" Figgins clapped like a trained seal. "We'll get you set up here immediately. It'll be just like old times."

Marley smiled weakly. "If only."

"Great," I mumbled. "You've got your Goo factory back. Hallmark has a card for this, I'm sure."

Marley bristled at my comment and Tina glared at me. "No, I've got my friend and colleague back. There's a difference."

"Whatever."

Joe cleared his throat, trying and failing to diffuse the tension. "Hey, do you think you super-powered folks can help me unload the truck? We brought some full barrels back with us."

"Come on, let's help," Brittany whispered, tugging at my arm.

We all headed out to the loading dock, grabbing a few hand trucks on the way. Puck and David went to the back of the van while Brittany, Ben, and I walked to Puck's car.

"You pull the barrels out, we'll haul them inside," Ben said to me.

"Fine, whatever." I charged up a little and heaved the first barrel out of the trunk.

"You don't have to act like that, you know," Ben said.

I shrugged unnaturally as I shuffle-pushed the barrel onto the hand truck. "Act like what? I'm not acting like anything."

"So your little side comments didn't mean anything then?" Ben backed up making room for Brittany to slide up next to me.

"Hi, I'm Santana 'Side Comments' Lopez," I huffed as I repositioned the other barrel in the trunk. "Nice to meet you."

"Would it kill you to admit that you're jealous of Marley?" he asked just as I was hoisting the barrel out of the trunk.

"WHAT?" I shrieked. I lost my grip and the barrel slipped out of my hands. It missed Brittany's hand truck by inches and landed on top of her sneaker with a loud, clean snap.

The entire population of Japan stopped in its tracks, wondering if the piercing scream of "MY FOOT" was real or just a figment of their collective imagination.

* * *

><p>Tina touched Brittany's foot and was gifted with a pained hissed from her patient. "Yup. It's definitely broken."<p>

My heart sank. "I'm so sorry, Britt."

"It was an accident," Brittany said through a pained smile.

Tina grabbed her clipboard and started jotting something down. "Luckily, you're Juiced enough to handle it. You're going to heal it and I'm going to hold it in place for you. It's going to hurt when I touch it, but it'll keep the bone straight."

"We tried healing my hand earlier. I'm not so good at it."

"That's okay. I'm here to help. On the count of three, I'm going to straighten out your foot and you're going to focus all the energy you can to the break. Okay? Just think about fixing the break and nothing else."

"Ok," she nodded.

"On the count of three. Ready? One, two, three!"

Tina grabbed Brittany's foot and Brittany bit her lip to keep from screaming. She made plenty of other noises though, groaning and grunting as she strained and directed energy through her body.

"Come on, you got it," Tina coached her.

After a full minute, Brittany finally released her lip from her teeth. "Ok, ok, please let go! It hurts too much!"

Tina released her foot and Brittany flopped back on the bed, exhausted and covered in sweat. Tina gently ran her hand over Brittany's foot.

"Nothing," she whispered. "That's not good."

"Am I doing it wrong?" Brittany asked.

"No, you're doing fine," I said. "You're doing great. I think… I think maybe you even healed my hand today." I held my hand up so that she could see it, tracing my finger over the space where my brown scar used to be. "See? It's perfect now."

Brittany pulled my hand to her, running her fingers over my skin. "You think I did that?"

"You kissed it to heal the cat bite," I said. "It got all tingly and I didn't notice at the time, but my scar disappeared. If it wasn't you, then I don't know what it was. Tina, what do you-"

Tina's tight-lipped expression caught me off guard.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Are you sure there's no other explanation for that? Nothing you did that would've made that mark go away?"

"I've tried a billion times to heal that thing. It didn't so much as fade. And well," my face got hot, "there are other… marks that I think Brittany healed, too. It had to be her."

"I can heal people?" she asked in tone that conveyed nothing less than awestruck wonder. Half a second later, the expression disappeared and she had a crazed look in her eye. She slid to the side of the bed and was just about to hop up onto her good leg.

I grabbed her shoulders. "Hey, where are you going? Your foot is broken!"

"Quinn," she said, practically vibrating underneath my hands. "I need to see her. I can heal her!"

"Wait a second." Tina stepped up beside me. "We can't be 100% sure that you healed Santana's wounds. Even if you did, it doesn't mean you can heal something as complicated as Quinn's injuries." Her face turned very grave. "And from what I've seen, the ability to heal others hasn't necessarily been a good thing."

"What do you mean?" Brittany asked.

We both waited in silence while the gears turned silently in Tina's head. Finally, she sighed and hung her head. "Out of all of the McKinley participants, there have only been two that had the ability to heal the injuries of other people. Neither of those people had the ability to heal their own injuries."

Brittany frowned. "So I can't heal myself?"

"I can run some tests so that we can figure out what's going on, but so far, that appears to be the case."

_She can't heal herself._

Things got a little fuzzy at that point. Brittany and Tina kept talking, but everything was muted. It was like I was underwater. I don't remember a lot of what happened after that. Tina said something about Juicing and then she walked out. I blinked my eyes and the next thing I knew, I was laying in Brittany's chamber with her. I was nodding at something she was saying and stroking her hair. She was giving me a concerned look. I blinked again and she was asleep. Tina was standing over the open chamber and talking to me. Whatever she was saying, it looked like she'd said it more than once.

I kinda faded in and out for a while. My next few blinks were in the dark. I think I was sitting. I wasn't sure.

_She can't heal herself. Kurt is coming. Tanaka is coming. What if she gets hurt? You broke her foot and you weren't even trying. What about her enemies? They'll do so much worse._

_What if you're not there? What's going to happen if she's not near a chamber? What if she bleeds out? What if she dies?_

My stomach lurched and I hunched over, fighting the urge to vomit. Wherever I was, I was definitely sitting down.

"She can't die," I whispered to no one.

_No. No. That can't happen. You can't let that happen._

_But can you stop it?_

I knew that I couldn't. I hadn't been able to stop Bryan Ryan from dying. I hadn't been able to stop my abuela from dying. I hadn't been able to stop Quinn from getting hurt.

_You couldn't save a Word Document._

_If she dies-_

I couldn't even finish the thought. I put my face into my hands and bit back a sob.

_She can't die. If you've never stopped anything in your life, you need to stop that._

The next time I blinked, I was standing in some kind of dark space. The door was open and Ben was standing in front of me. His mouth was moving and it sounded like he was talking really loudly.

"Santana!"

My name broke through and I shook my head, finally breaking free from my fog of disorientation.

"Wh-what? What?" I rubbed my face. "Why are you yelling?"

"Because you weren't answering me. What's the matter with you? Why are you hiding in the closet?"

I looked around. I was, in fact, standing in the utility closet.

"I have no idea." I didn't even know how long I'd been in there. I blinked and tried to piece together what was going on, but my thoughts were so scrambled.

"Your skin is healed," I observed.

He ran a hand over his cheek. "Yeah, I clean up pretty good. Just got out of the chamber. Brittany's going into Flux soon, so I figured you'd want to be there."

Everything came rushing back and I felt sick all over again. I sat down heavily. Luckily, there was a chair under my butt.

_Was I sitting before?_

My breathing started to pick up and my legs started to shake.

"Um, are you okay?" He sounded incredibly uncomfortable. "Should I go get David or…?"

"What if she dies?" I croaked. I lifted my face and just stared at him, waiting for an answer.

"Her foot's broken, Santana. She's not going to die from that. She's gonna be just fine. Do you want me to go get David?"

"No," I snapped. "I don't need David. I need you. Brittany can't heal herself. Kurt is coming, Ben. Kurt is coming and Tanaka is coming- anything can happen. I can't let anything happen. So what do I do? How do I stop anything from happening? What am I supposed to do?"

I didn't realize that I was standing and yelling until Ben took a step backwards and put his hands up.

"Okay, okay, stop yelling!" he hissed. "People are gonna think I'm in here beating you up or something."

"What am I supposed to do?" I repeated at a slightly lower volume, but with the same intensity. I felt my eyes watering and I closed them. Ben was the last person I wanted to cry in front of.

"Look, I… I'm not really an emotional kinda guy. David would probably be better at-"

"I am not being emotional," I growled through gritted teeth. "I am being practical. This is not some theoretical shit that I'm making up in my head. This is real. We have enemies and they are coming. Yes, I am shaking and yelling and freaking the fuck out, but I'm not asking you to address that. I don't need David to come hug me. I need advice from the tactical guy and that's you. So stop dismissing this as some 'emotional woman' crap and fucking _help_ me."

"Hey, now. Wait a second." Ben closed the closet door and flipped on the dim light bulb above us. "This has nothing to do with you being a woman. It has everything to do with you being… you."

"Kick me while I'm down, why don't you," I muttered.

"I'm not trying to insult you," he clarified. "It's just what I've observed. You're hot-headed and everything you do is based off of how you feel at any given second with very little thought given to the consequences. You're an emotional person. You're Puck."

"Ok, now you're trying to insult me."

He chuckled. "I swear, I'm not."

"Fine, whatever. I'm Puck. Now are you going to help me or not?"

"What do you need?"

"I need to figure out how to keep her safe. I can't let anything happen to her."

"Unless you want her to stay here forever, I don't think I have a solution for you," he said. "If you're just worried about her being physically protected, we might have some options. I can't promise that nothing will happen to her, but we can make sure she has a fighting chance."

"What can we do?" I asked eagerly.

He reached into his shirt and pulled out the black medallion that was hanging around his neck.

The Coin.

"I'll have to check with Himanshu, but I think we should have an extra Coin laying around here somewhere. Get her to wear this and she'll have some protection if she runs into trouble."

"How much protection?"

"David hasn't run into any issues," he said. "Remember when Figgins was talking about the different categories that we all fall into based on our abilities? People like David and Brittany aren't super strong. That's why they tend to be faster and more agile. They don't do well in hand-to-hand combat. David has trained himself to be a good fighter, but you could probably kick his ass at half strength. His Coin was specially designed with that in mind. His suit can withstand a lot of damage and absorb more shock than anyone else's."

I didn't look convinced.

"Brittany also has the advantage of being able to attack from a distance. David doesn't have any natural weapons, so he's got some built into his suit. Brittany's got psychic weapons. Hell, she threw Puck around like a rag doll from across the warehouse without even trying. I think if she had the right tools and training, she could handle herself just fine. Just get her to wear the Coin and I don't think you'll have too much to worry about."

I frowned. "If I ask her to keep a super suit dangling around her neck, she's gonna think I'm some controlling loony toon."

He shrugged. "I'll ask her to wear it. I'm not really all that concerned with people being mad at me as long as the unit is safe."

_You can take the solider out of the military, but you can't take the military out of the solider._

"Well, thanks. I appreciate it. I'm still mad at you guys for lying to me, but still. Thanks."

"Fair enough." Ben's mouth twitched in a half-hearted smile. "Look, I know I'm not your favorite person in the world, but I'm not out to make you miserable. I've tried to be a good mentor or whatever I am to you and maybe I haven't done the best job. I forget that you're not a soldier. So maybe we can start fresh. Maybe I can stop being such a hardass and maybe you can start counting to ten and taking a deep breath before you completely disregard what I say to you."

I frowned. I didn't want to commit to any kind of changes in our relationship because I was still pissed off. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a part of the McKinley "unit." I still needed training, but I didn't know what kind of relationship I wanted with these people long-term.

"I'll think about it," I said. "I don't know if I'm really gonna be sticking around that much longer."

"I see," Ben said evenly. "Well, it's up to you. My offer stands."

_I never thought I'd live to see the day when this guy offered to ease up on me. This must be the Twilight Zone._

Ben kept his word. When Brittany finished her Juicing, Ben brought Himanshu in and talked to the three of us about getting special Coins made. He made it sound like his idea instead of a creepy plot by me to keep Brittany safe from harm. Himanshu wasn't thrilled with that fact that it would be a rush order and requested that we supply him with gallons of Red Bull, but he agreed to help us.

After that, I took Brittany back to our room so that both of us could stop shaking.

* * *

><p>"Do you think Joe will tell Mojo that he saw us kissing?" Brittany asked.<p>

I was spooning Brittany from behind with my arms wrapped around her midsection. We were both still in our underwear with the sheets and comforter loosely draped around us. After I insisted on being the big spoon, she let me cuddle her as she dragged her fingers in random patterns along my arms.

"I don't really know him all that well," I said uncertainly. "He said he wouldn't tell and God isn't a fan of lying, so I think he'll at least try to keep it to himself."

She relaxed a little. "Good."

I almost didn't say anything. Almost.

"Would it be the most terrible thing in the world if he slipped up and mentioned it to her?"

Brittany turned her head back a little. "You're kidding, right?"

"A lot of kids these days are kinda progressive," I pointed out. "Maybe Mojo wouldn't even care."

"Mojo can't know that I'm… no, that's just not a good idea." I could feel the tension in her muscles. "It doesn't matter if she cares or not. I don't need Judy accidentally finding out. It's just not worth it."

_Just not worth it._

_You're just not worth it._

_You're just not worth it._

_You're just not-_

"Santana?"

I shook myself out of my spiral of negativity. "Yeah?"

"Don't be upset."

"I'm not upset."

"You sound like you are." She stroked my arm, which was suddenly limp. "You feel like you are."

"I…" I stopped talking and found myself doing something that I usually didn't do. I was actually considered whether I should tell the truth rather than just spitting out some stupid lie.

_She wants the truth. Give her the truth._

"I wish that I was worth it," I blurted out. I immediately felt like a moron for saying it out loud. It sounded pathetic and needy.

She turned around in my arms and stared at me wide-eyed. "Santana, I didn't mean that _you're_ not worth it. I didn't mean that at all."

"It's okay," I said, feeling foolish, "I'm making this about me and it's not about me. Forget I said anything."

She craned her head to make eye contact as I avoided her gaze. "I didn't mean it like that. Can you look at me, please?"

I brought my eyes up to hers and saw a mix of emotions in her expression. She looked tired and sad, but most of all, she looked scared.

"I can't tell them," she said. "My family… I can't let everything fall apart."

"Britt, you don't have to be the one-"

She nodded furiously. "I do. Quinn can't help right now. So it's all on me. I have to be the one that keeps it together."

"But that's not fair," I protested.

"That's just how it is," she said. "Once the girls are out of the house and off at college, I don't know, I'll try to get my dad into a treatment program and put Judy on or something-"

"So when do you start living your life?" I argued. "Why should you be the one that gives up everything? The one that gives up your whole life so that everyone else can pretend to be happy?"

"Because they need someone to take care of them. They always have." She made it sound so simple, like it was only natural that she sacrifice everything.

"How are they going to learn to take care of themselves if you're always there? You can't always-"

She sat up suddenly, causing me to lose my grip on her waist. "What am I supposed to do, huh? Just drop the ball this time? Let my dad drink himself to death? Who's going to make sure there's food on the table? Who's going to keep the lights on? Just me and Quinn. Nobody else. You think you can sit here and judge me, but you don't even understand. Okay? You don't."

I watched as she rubbed her face and took big, heaving breaths to calm herself down.

I shrank back a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

She wiped her eyes quickly. "Hold me, please?"

I opened my arms and she nestled back into my embrace. We stayed like that for quite some time in complete silence, just holding each other. She was shaking hard and I knew it wasn't all because of the Juicing.

When I finally broke the silence, I spoke so quietly that I could barely hear myself. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She hugged me tighter. "I never talk about it."

"You're about to explode, B." I rubbed her back gently until she calmed down a little. I kissed her nose. "You can talk about anything you need to talk about. Or we can just lay here. Whatever you need."

I figured that she'd chosen the second option, but after a few deep breaths, she propped herself up on her elbow. She took one of my hands in her free hand and started speaking in a barely audible voice.

"When I was little, my mom took care of everyone," Brittany started. "She cooked, she cleaned, she got us ready for school, and she helped us with our homework. She even worked part-time at the art gallery in North Lima and made it home in time to meet us at our bus stops. My dad worked for one of the big architectural firms and made a lot of money, but my mom was the one who made things happen. She handled the budget, made sure the bills got paid, everything. When she disappeared, it was… I don't know how to describe it." She pondered it for a moment, tapping her lips in thought. "Sometimes when people die or disappear, it's really quiet and slow. Life goes on like it normally would, but you don't have that person around anymore and it's sad. When my mom disappeared, it wasn't quiet or slow. It was like a grenade went off."

She looked at me and I squeezed her hand in encouragement.

"My dad fell off the wagon. I didn't even know he was an alcoholic back then. I found out later that he quit drinking when my mom got pregnant with me. So he was sober for ten years. Then my mom went missing and he just… fell. That's the only word I have for it. He lost himself and he let everything go. He would leave for days at a time and I had no idea where he was or if he was even alive."

"He left you home alone?" I asked.

She nodded, frowning. "We were home alone a lot. If my dad was home, he was passed out on the couch. I was too afraid at first to tell anyone what was going on. I thought they'd take us away or lock my dad up or something. We would go to Quinn's house for dinner and that was the only real food that we got all day. My mom had been showing me how to do little things to help in the kitchen, like measure stuff or cut vegetables, but I didn't know how to make real food by myself. Heck, I was still afraid of the stove, so there wasn't a lot I could do. I fed Mojo dry cereal for breakfast and filled her lunchbox up with Goldfish, but you've seen the way she eats. It's like she has a bottomless stomach. She was only four, so she didn't understand that she couldn't eat everything and that we had to save some for later. I was ten, so after a few days of taking care of Mojo, I got overwhelmed. We ran out of snacks and I finally broke down and asked Quinn for help."

"Is that when Judy started taking care of you?"

"Sort of. I didn't want Judy to know anything because even though she was my mom's best friend and my best friend's mom, she kinda scared the crap out of me. And I don't think I would've let anybody's mom take care of me at that point. It would've felt like I was trying to replace _my_ mom. So I let Judy help us without her knowing. Quinn would wait until her parents were busy, sneak extra food out of the kitchen, and bring it over for me and Mojo. It was never very much because we didn't want Judy to realize that food was missing, but it was more than we had. If Quinn couldn't sneak us food, she'd split her lunch three ways and bring Mojo's share to her when the preschool kids went to lunch. Quinn never complained, not once." A weak smile appeared on her face for the first time since she started talking. "I know you don't like Quinn, but she's always been there for me, even when everything was going to hell. Especially when everything was going to hell."

"Noted." I refrained from commenting on how I felt about Quinn, but I'm sure she could read my expression.

"My dad came back every few days," she went on. "Random people would bring him back in the middle of the night. It was really scary because we were alone in the house and it always sounded like someone was breaking in. I asked him to cook once and that was a big mistake. I think he was trying to make Hamburger Helper. He almost burned the house down. I never asked him to cook again."

She took a deep breath that didn't really seem to calm her. "He would puke wherever he passed out, usually on the floor next to the couch. I cleaned it up and made him go upstairs and shower. Sometimes, I didn't know if he was going to wake up. Sometimes, I didn't even want him to wake up because I didn't want another person to take care of. I was already taking care of Mojo. I bathed her, got her ready for the preschool bus, made sure she was eating. I was always afraid that she was going to tell her teachers about my dad, but she never did."

"Didn't Judy notice that your dad was never around?" I asked.

"Judy had her own problems," Brittany sighed. "She'd lost her best friend, so she was mourning my mom, but things were already really bad at home. If you were walking down the street, you could hear her and Mr. Fabray fighting from outside. Mr. Fabray took off with his secretary about two months after my mom disappeared. Judy got really depressed. It was a really bad time for her, so I don't blame her for not noticing how messed up things were at my house."

"How long did you live like that?"

"It was only about four months."

"You- you lived like that for four months?" I stroked her wrist and brought it to my lips, kissing it softly and hoping that I could get the anger rising inside of me to abate. "That's a long time. One day is too long for that to be going on."

"It would've gone on longer, but we got caught. Judy brought home some weird seafood casserole from the store one day. It turns out that Mojo's allergic to shellfish. She got really, really sick. She could barely breathe. Judy had to call 911. She started calling my dad, but his cellphone had been disconnected. She was asking so many questions about where he was and when he would be back that I had to tell her the truth. After Mojo got out of the hospital, we all stayed at Quinn's house. Eventually, my dad came home and Judy yelled at him for hours and hours because he hadn't been taking care of us. Then, she tucked us in with Quinn and Frannie like we were having a sleepover. The next morning, there were waffles on the table. It felt weird to eat a real breakfast instead of a leftover casserole or something. I know it's weird, but… the waffles made me feel like I dreamed the whole thing, you know? I felt really anxious and uneasy, so Judy let me stay home from school. I ended up crying the whole day. She must've thought I was crazy. I needed to cry, though. It was the first time I had a chance to stop worrying and just be sad that my mom was gone. I hadn't had time to cry for her since the day she went missing."

Brittany's expression was blank again, but she wouldn't look at me.

"After that, everything was fine for a long time."

"_Fine_?" I asked incredulously.

She shrugged. "Judy is Super Mom. She cooked. She helped us with our homework. She signed us up for cheerleading. It took a little while, but my dad got better. After he was sober for a while, Judy let us go back home. Things were okay, but my dad was struggling. The firm fired him for not showing up to work and he was having trouble getting back on his feet. Eventually, Judy just packed everything up and moved into our house so she could help. I think she wanted to feel like she still had a normal family. She wanted to feel needed and we definitely needed her." She swallowed hard. "We had a funeral for my mom. I didn't want to go because I didn't want to admit that she wasn't coming back. The police closed her case, so that was it. We were all just supposed to go on and be alive, I guess."

I ran my hand up and down her forearm. "I hate that that happened to you."

"I've never told anyone else about that before," she whispered. "I don't think I've ever wanted to tell anyone about it."

"Why not?"

She looked guilty. "I hate feeling angry at my dad. It's unfair for me to be mad at him because he lost the love of his life. When he's hurting, he drinks."

I let my hand trail up to her face. "I don't think that's a good excuse for him to check out on you like that. You were just a kid. You needed someone to take care of you and that was his job. He let you down and you have a right to be mad."

"I just wish everyone wouldn't judge him so much. He's a really good dad, he just… he gets lost." Her eyes were imploring me to understand and I really, really didn't.

It made my blood boil that Mo probably drank three square meals every day of that four months while Brittany and Mojo got dinner and a third of Quinn's lunch.

"He's not being there for Mojo right now," I pointed out. "Or for you. He's coming to the hospital drunk and he doesn't even know that Mojo is failing her classes."

"He's overwhelmed right now. Once Judy comes back, everything will be-"

"Fine, right?" I finished. "Brittany, none of this is fine. Not at all."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "I don't remember asking for your opinion on my family life."

I ignored that remark and kept talking. "You keep trying to be the crazy glue for your family, but all it's doing is driving _you_ crazy. How is that fair to you? You can't live your life because your dad won't get treatment? You can't live your life because Judy will leave? That _sucks_, Brittany. That's not fine."

She threw up her hand in frustration. "Well, what am I supposed to do then? What's your big solution?"

"I'm not saying that I know how to solve the problem," I said. "I just hate watching them guilt you into solving these problems that are bigger than what you can handle. I hate watching them police your emotions."

"You think I'm not mad?" she asked calmly. I almost answered, but my brain subconsciously registered the sharpness of her tone. "I'm mad all the time. Anger doesn't do anything. It doesn't stop my dad from drinking and it doesn't stop Judy from leaving."

I had never seen Brittany get defensive like this and I was finding out very quickly what set her off.

"I get that, but what do you gain by bottling it up and pretending everything is fine? You can't be the professional help that Mo needs to stop drinking or that helps Judy stop feeling whatever she feels that makes her leave."

Brittany snorted. "Nobody even knows why she leaves half the time. Mojo calls it 'hitting the Judy button.'"

"And your dad never says anything?" I asked, frowning deeply.

She shrugged. "There's no reasoning with Judy. Once she's made up her mind to go, she's already gone."

"How often does she leave?"

"Two or three times a year," Brittany mumbled guiltily, as if she was somehow at fault.

"How long does she leave for?" I asked.

"Until you admit that you're wrong and promise to never, ever do what you did again." She quickly added, "If she hadn't taken us in when I was ten, I don't know what would've happened to us, so-"

"So she gets a free pass forever?" I asked. "Honestly, she sounds just as bad as your dad- checking out when you need her."

"At least we weren't kids when Judy started leaving," she argued. "We were old enough to take care of ourselves."

I raised an eyebrow because I was beyond skeptical of that statement. "How old?"

Brittany averted her eyes and looked down at the mattress. "Sixteen. She left when Quinn got pregnant."

I tensed up, not realizing that I had stepped on _that_ landmine again.

_Oh. Whoops. Shit._

"We don't have to talk about if you don't want to," I said quickly.

Brittany hesitated. "I think… I think I want to."

I was more than a little bit surprised. "Are you sure? I mean, it's not like we're having the most pleasant discussion right now. I would understand if you told me to mind my own business and shut the hell up."

She mulled it over for a second before responding. "Even though you're pissing me off a little, it still… I don't know, it feels like a weight is lifting off my shoulders. Talking about things feels better than not talking about things."

I was surprised that she was being so honest with me about the way I was making her feel. I didn't want her to be pissed off at me, but I was angry about the way her family treated her. My version of "being supportive" was probably coming off as "being judgmental." I didn't know what it was like to have an alcoholic parent that repeatedly relapsed. I knew what it was like to have someone step in for my mother, but my abuela had never treated me the way Judy treated Britany and the other girls.

I'd asked Brittany to talk to me about things that she'd never spoken of before. Then I turned around and cut down everything she loved.

_Not your finest moment, Lopez. Pretend you have a higher emotional IQ then you really do and shut your piehole for a second._

I willed every part of my brain that had even partial control over my mouth to show some restraint. I was going to shut the fuck up like never before.

Brittany paused for a moment, steeling herself. "Quinn got pregnant when we were sophomores in high school. She was dating the quarterback of the football team and well, it just kind of happened. Judy flipped out like we thought she would. She told Quinn to pack up her stuff and leave the house."

My mouth dropped open. "Where was she supposed to go?"

_Shut. Up. And. Listen._

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know. My dad refused to kick her out of the house, so Judy left instead. She packed up her stuff and went back to her house. She hadn't sold it after six years of living with us, so maybe in the back of her mind, she knew she'd need to move back in someday."

_That sounds like a Fabray thing to do._

"Things were okay at first. It was the first time that Judy had ever done something like that and nobody really knew what to expect. Mojo and Frannie were betting that she'd be back in the house by the end of the week. I think Quinn was a little relieved that Judy was out of the house. But my dad… he got really stressed out. At the end of the month, the bills started coming in." She let out a quiet, sad laugh. "My dad had been at the radio station for a year, working his way up through the ranks and he had just gotten his own late-night radio show that nobody listened to. Without the income from the bridal shop, we were screwed. He made it two or three months before he gave up. He started drinking and disappearing and it was like I was ten all over again."

I squeezed Brittany's hand for support. I could see that it was hard for her to talk about the past and I knew she was fighting the anger that she felt at her father.

"This time, we were ready, though. We knew how to cook for ourselves. We knew everyone's allergies. I made sure of that. There were other problems, though." She tilted her head inquisitively. "Did you know that your utilities can't be turned off if you have small children living with you?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't know that."

"It's true. It's something I didn't think about when my mom disappeared. Mojo was so small back then that we were protected from things like that. Now, we were older. There were bills to be paid- the light bill, the phone bill, the water bill. _Somebody_ was going to have to pay for it. We thought long and hard about whether we could afford to take Quinn to her checkups with the OB/GYN, but both she and Frannie had been sick as babies, so we were too worried not to go. It was really expensive and we didn't have the money. Judy didn't want us working at the bridal shop anymore, so we both got jobs at Mr. Happy's in the mall."

I cringed involuntarily as images of our last trip to CAPTAIN HAPPY'S FUNLAND flashed in my head.

"I was next in line to be the captain of the Cheerios," she went on, "but I didn't want it. Quinn told me not to quit because she said I could get a scholarship, so I stayed. In the end, it didn't matter because I started doing really badly in school." She gave me a pleading look. "I'm not dumb, Santana."

"I know that," I assured her.

"It was just so hard to stay awake in class," she explained. "I had Cheerios practice before school, classes all day, Cheerios after school, and then I had to go to work. We worked until the mall closed and then we came home and helped the girls with their homework and fed them. By the time I got to my own homework, it was late and I was so tired, I could barely keep my eyes open. Quinn started doing my homework for me while I was at Cheerios practice, but I wasn't passing the tests or the quizzes in class, so my grades were horrible. I wanted to quit working so that I'd have time to study, but somebody had to keep food on the table and keep up with the payment plans for Quinn's doctor visits and keep the lights on and keep the water running."

"And that's why you had to stay an extra year?" I asked.

Brittany's face burned. "I never caught up. The next year was just as hard because there were so many things I hadn't learned the year before. It just got worse and worse." She looked so ashamed.

"Brittany." I waited for her to look at me.

She didn't. She abruptly changed the subject instead. "I started stealing churros and hot dogs from work just to make the money stretch further. Judy never offered to give us any money for food and she flat out refused to do anything for the baby or Quinn. I guess she thought she was going to punish everybody so that we would all see how wrong it was for Quinn to get pregnant."

I bit my tongue so hard that I was probably in danger of severing it completely.

"When Quinn told me that she was thinking about keeping the baby… all I could think was 'this is never going to end, is it? There's gonna be another mouth to feed and there's gonna be more doctor bills and diapers and clothes.' I was up all night worrying about how I was going to take care of a baby. I finally told her, 'I can't do it, Quinn. I'm sorry, but I just can't.' She understood. A few days later, a family came by the house to meet with her about adopting the baby. I used to feel bad about Quinn giving the baby up, but that baby deserved better than what we could give it."

"I think that was a smart decision," I said. "You couldn't have taken care of the baby without more money and you didn't know that Judy was going to come back."

"If we had kept the baby, Judy _never_ would have come back." There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in Brittany's voice. "You have to put things back the way they were. Then Judy will come back. We didn't know that back then, but she's left enough times that we figured it out. "

_Don't argue. Just wait. Just listen._

"Judy was there when the baby was born. She didn't say much. I figured she would come home after that, but she didn't. Mr. Happy fired both of us, me because I stole churros and Quinn because he didn't like her. That job was all of our income, so we were really worried. Frannie and Mojo started shoplifting food. I told them not to do it because I know them and I knew that they probably weren't going to be very good at it. I was right. They were beyond terrible. Like so, so bad. They got busted for stealing chicken from Kroger."

Something shifted in my memory bank. "Wait, stealing chicken? Was Natalie with them?"

"Yup. Did she tell you about that?"

"I just remember going over to her house one weekend and hearing her dad screaming at her about stuffing chicken cutlets in her bra. I thought it was some new metaphor for the sex talk or something." Even in the proper context, it sounded weird.

It was strange to see how intertwined our lives were or could have been at that point. I wanted to go back in time, hold Past Brittany, tell her that everything would be okay, and fill her fridge with my abuela's cooking.

"Yeah, Natalie got busted, too. Judy had to go get all three of them from the police station. She didn't even say anything when she came back. She just walked into my house with Mojo and Frannie behind her and started washing the dishes." Her mouth twisted into a scowl and she grimaced like she had a bad taste in her mouth. "There were waffles on the table in the morning. That's how we knew that she was back for good. She didn't mention it and neither did my dad when he came home from wherever he had been that week. It was like none of it had ever happened. I didn't eat those waffles, either. I stayed home from school and I screamed into my pillow. I screamed until I tasted blood in my mouth."

I didn't even know what to say. "How long was she gone?"

"About nine, ten months," she said through clenched teeth. "She left when Quinn was two months pregnant and came back a few months after the baby was born."

Brittany's expression had gone from blank to cold and hard. In that moment, I hated Judy and Mo. The loveable goof from my favorite radio show and the bubbly lady who was giving my best friend her dream wedding dress had abandoned their own children when they needed them most.

I don't think Britany realized that her hands were balled up into fists until I carefully pried them open.

"It's okay," I said soothingly. "You can let it out. It's okay to be angry."

"I never realized just how angry I was about all this." She hung her head. "I haven't let myself be angry since that day. I just remember feeling so hopeless. My grades were in the toilet. I was going to get chewed out for missing Cheerios practice. There was a test the next day that I knew I was going to fail. So I screamed. I screamed because Judy was back and it didn't mean anything. Everything was already ruined. Everything stayed ruined."

I leaned forward, raising myself up a little to kiss her forehead.

She looked at me warily. "Is this is the part where you say Judy sucks and my dad sucks and my family sucks?"

I kissed her again. "No. I'm trying to be good. Let me be good."

"I don't want to be angry at them, San." She choked back a sob. "I can't hate Judy. Yeah, it sucks that she leaves us, but if she's the only one who keeps my dad in line. I can't hate my dad. When he's not drinking, he's the best. I want to hold onto _that_, to the good times. I don't want to hold onto the anger because it'll just make me distant from the people I love. They're all I _have_. I'm not getting my mom back. I know what it's like to feel abandoned and hopeless. So I'm just thankful that I have _some_ of my dad and _some_ of Judy when I can get it because I've had nothing before and it's much, much worse."

I thought that I knew what Brittany's life was like, but I finally knew the extent of how her family unit worked. Brittany couldn't imagine being anything less than completely loyal to her family. She wanted so desperately to be able to trust them and love them and keep them together that she would let those people steer her deep into the closet or into the arms of Tommy or off of a fucking _cliff_. She didn't think that she could fix the dynamic that they had established.

_You can't fix it, either._

It was a simple truth, but it gave me some perspective. Brittany's life wasn't some run-down shack on HGTV waiting for me to turn it into a "respectable" single family home. If Brittany wanted to change things, she had to do it for herself, not because I pushed her into it.

I sighed. "It probably feels like I'm attacking you for loving them and that's not what I'm trying to do at all. You're carrying so much pain and anger and I hate that. I hate to see you hurting. Tell me what you need. I just want to make it better."

"I don't think you can make it better. I'm not used to talking about this. We just pretend like it never happened." She rolled on to her back and stared up at the ceiling. "It's always like it never happened until it happens again."

I hated the defeated, exhausted expression on her face. I at least wanted her to feel like she had someone in her corner. With a shaky, uncertain finger, I leaned over her and tilted her face up towards mine.

"Brittany," I said quietly, "I know it's hard to talk about this. I appreciate you telling me about it."

She gave me a short nod and tried to look away, but I held her chin and her gaze.

"I- I don't know if it means anything coming from me, but I just wanted to say thank you for everything that you did." Her face scrunched up in confusion as I continued. "Thank you for taking care of Mojo and Frannie and Quinn. Thank you for helping Mojo and Frannie with their homework. Thank you for all the times you got up early or stayed late for cheerleading practice. Thank you for going to class every day. Thank you for working for that god-awful clown man. Thank you for taking Quinn to the doctor. Thank you for cleaning up after your dad when he got sick. Thank you for repeating your senior year. Thank you for having the biggest heart in the world… and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that nobody protected you. You didn't deserve to go through that."

Brittany just laid there and blinked up at me.

"Um…" I lowered my hand, not really knowing what to say after that.

_Way to overdo it._

"Sorry, I probably overstepped my-"

Brittany's hands rose up and gently cupped my jaw. She pulled my face closer to hers and slowly, carefully began to kiss me all over my face. My heart skipped a beat every time her lips touched my skin and lingered there. Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she wasn't sobbing or sniffling as she kissed me. She was almost smiling.

"No one has _ever_ thanked me or Quinn for what we did," she whispered hoarsely as she kissed my ear. "Not my dad. Not Judy. No one. They never apologized, either. I didn't know how much I needed to hear that until now."

"I know it's not the same-"

"It's okay. They probably won't ever bring it up, but it just feels good to have someone acknowledge it." She gave me a long yet chaste kiss on the lips. "Thank you so much. You're the sweetest person in the world."

"Oh hush," I whispered half-heartedly.

I felt tingling, but I knew it wasn't related to any kind of super power. My chest felt warm and my face felt hot and tears were pricking at the back of my eyes.

"It's true," she insisted. "You're too sweet for your own good."

"I'm amazed at how you always see the best in me even though I can be an ass sometimes," I croaked, speaking awkwardly around the lump forming in my throat.

"A shapely, brown ass?" she laughed.

I couldn't even laugh. I was too busy trying not to freak out at the waves of feelings crashing over me. I swallowed hard to dislodge the lump just as she tilted her head and kissed along my jawline. "Y-you're amazing, you know that? To be the person that you are after everything you've been through?"

She hummed her reply into my cheek and kept kissing my face even though it was probably burning hot. There was no way that she couldn't feel the heat on my cheeks.

"They're not all you have, you know?" I whispered. "You have me."

She stopped kissing me and pulled back. Her eyes started to water and she blinked the wetness away. She laughed unexpectedly and let go of my face.

"God, I hate it when you say things like that."

I frowned. "What? Why?"

"Because it makes me so angry at myself." Her smile turned wistful. "I know things have been rocky with everything that's going on, but you're still the only person who's ever made me feel safe. It's been a long time since I felt like anyone really cared. Everything could be so easy with you. I know it could. I'm just not brave enough to have you."

A tear ran down her cheek and I wiped it away. "Brittany, I told you. I'm not asking you to-"

"I know you're not going to make me…" she wrestled with the words before averting her eyes, "…come out or anything like that, but how long can I ask you to wait for me? I don't even know if I can be what you need."

If she thought that I needed a walking Pride Parade for a girlfriend, she was mistaken. I needed her.

I sighed. "I'm not waiting because you asked me to, I'm waiting because I-"

_-love you._

That bucket-of-ice-water-over-the-head feeling, the same one I felt the first time that I saw her, hit me and I shivered.

"-want to," I choked out, forcing the wrong words to come out of my mouth.

My heart was pounding in my chest.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

My first reaction to realizing that I was in love was sheer terror. That probably says a lot about me. I knew it was true as soon as it popped into my head. "Love" was the name for the feeling that had been looming around me, lurking in my chest cavity just behind my ribs. It was this overwhelming, unshakeable feeling that made me act completely stupid when it came to all things Brittany. It felt like an urge, a need- the need to keep her heart safe from her family, keep her body safe from Kurt, and keep her mind safe from Puck's bargain bin pornography.

"I know," she said. I almost had a heart attack until I realized she was responding to my spoken words and not my thoughts. "I know that. You still deserve better than what I can give you right now."

"You give me a lot, B." I reached deep into the Dungeon of Feelings. Voluntarily. Sober. For most people, it would be equivalent to standing in the middle of the street with no pants on. "No one's ever made me feel the way you do. You make me want to be better because you already think that I _am_ better. For some strange reason, I believe you when you when you tell me things. I think 'maybe she's right… like maybe I really am sweet or special'."

"You are special." She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "You're sweet and smart and beautiful." She kissed my other cheek and laughed. "Your face is on fire."

I ducked my head. "Yeah, well. Compliments are weird."

"Then I should compliment you more." She grinned and kissed my burning cheeks again. "That's what a good… girlfriend would do."

I froze. "I thought we weren't using that word. I thought we were working up to that."

"I think that saying it should be part of working up to it. Not saying it to other people," she added quickly, "but we should be able to say it to each other."

"Girlfriend girlfriend girlfriend."

She laughed. "So I'm Beetlejuice now?"

"Bloody Mary."

"That's five times, not three."

"Fine. Girlfriend girlfriend. Now you've officially been summoned."

"That's not how you summon Bloody Mary, but I'll let it slide this time," she said. "Oh, and in case you forgot, you owe me a date."

"You're right, I did say that," I agreed. "When we get back, I'll take you out."

She looked as nervous as she had the last time I suggested it, but this time, she also seemed excited.

"Don't worry," I assured her. "I'm not gonna do anything crazy. It'll be fine."

She held out her pinky. "Promise?"

I hooked her pinky with my own. "Promise."

* * *

><p>The tests came back and they were pretty conclusive. Brittany could heal others. Brittany could not heal herself.<p>

No one seemed concerned about it except for me.

Correction: no one seemed terrified out of their mind about it except for me.

Once the test results were confirmed, Brittany had one thing and one thing only on her mind. She wanted to heal Quinn.

"I put the Juicing schedule in both of your phones," Himanshu said, going down his checklist of Things to Discuss. "Brittany, you'll meet us here once a week to get Juiced. You're going to have to stay overnight the first few times, but the more you do it, the shorter it will be."

"Got it." Brittany was fidgeting and barely paying attention.

"Santana, you don't have to come if you don't-"

"I'll be there," I said.

"The more the merrier. I'll have your Coins ready soon. I just have to make some changes to meet your, um, design specifications."

My design specifications were "build Brittany's suit like a fucking tank" and "if she gets hurt, I swear to God, Baby Figgins." What can I say? I'm very particular.

Everyone was standing in a circle around the main room. Even Quinn's unconscious body was there. Tina was prepping her for the helicopter ride. David wasn't going to impersonate her. This time, she was really going with us to the hospital.

"Okay, what's left then? We did the fittings for your suits… talked about proper nutrition… discussed the plan for today… talked about the Juicing schedule… any last words from anybody else?"

Ben stepped forward.

"I know there's been a lot of tension around here lately," he said, looking at me and then Puck, "but we're all just going to have to let that go. We're a team whether we like it or not. Right now, our enemy has the advantage. Three of us are susceptible to Wes's mind control. Kurt is no longer afraid to attack us in the open. Lima is not a safe place anymore." He turned to Brittany and I. "But we're going to stay here. You two didn't sign up for any of this and you've become casualties in our war. So since you two want to go back to your normal lives, we'll stay here and support that in any way that we can. Just remember, 'normal life' doesn't exist anymore, not the way that it used to. You have to be vigilant at all times. Watch your back at all times. Look out for your families because they're on Kurt's radar now, too." He walked all the way forward and grabbed my shoulders. "And most importantly, do not let Kurt bait you. He'll play with you and try to get you riled up, but don't give him the satisfaction. Okay?"

For once in my life, I let Ben try to mentor me without putting up a fight. "Okay."

"Okay," Brittany said. "We'll call you if there's any trouble."

Ben smiled, which was weird for him. He stepped back into the circle, but not into the space where he'd been standing before. He slid in next to Marley and put his arm around her. It was a gesture of team unity and it was all I thought about on the helicopter ride to the hospital.

_If everyone can forgive Marley for abandoning them in their time of need, maybe I can forgive people, too. Mercedes and Brittany have been pretty forgiving of my bullshit recently. I should extend the same kindness to others._

Brittany was practically in a trance on the way to the hospital, staring at Quinn's comatose form that was secured to a fold-out bed across from us. I slipped my hand into hers and she squeezed it hard. I knew she was preparing for the big moment and I didn't want to break her focus.

_Puck accidentally pushed me into the Goo. I think I can forgive him._

_Sam… he's just trying to protect Mercedes. He's just going about it like an epic douchebag._

My thoughts were interrupted when we landed at the hospital and had to make our way to our normal room. Once we got into the room, everyone jumped into their assigned roles.

"We're running behind schedule," Tina huffed. "Hurry, get Quinn into position."

David, Himanshu, and I carefully transferred Quinn from the travel gurney to the hospital bed. Brittany changed in a flash and started pacing nervously on the other side of the room.

"Are you going to be okay to try this?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure, I'm fine." Brittany ran her hands through her hair and shook her limbs loose. "I can do it."

Tina glanced at her watch as she adjusted Quinn's life support machines. "We don't have a lot of time. We should start now."

Brittany turned away while everyone watched Tina take the tube out of Quinn's throat and turn off the ventilator. Tina had suggested that Quinn not be intubated while Brittany healed her just in case something went wrong. She was afraid that Brittany might lose control and move Quinn's body with her mind somehow. Tina took the bag value mask from her doctor bag, pressed it against Quinn's mouth, and began to pump air into Quinn's lungs.

"Now," she said calmly as she watched the time, "I'm going to try stay out of your way as much as possible while you do this, but since Quinn's so weak, I don't want her going longer than a minute and a half without air."

Brittany walked over to Quinn's bed and sat down next to her as David and Himanshu cleared the area.

I didn't know where to stand. "Should I…"

"Stay here." She grabbed my shoulder before I could move away. "I need you here."

I nodded and stood next to her. We looked down at Quinn. The room was silent except for the quiet beeping of the heart rate monitor and the pumping of the bag valve mask.

The phone on the wall rang. Himanshu answered it and his face turned ashen. He spoke a few words into the receiver before slamming the phone back on the wall. "Quinn's and Brittany's families are at the nurses' station. They're here early."

"Fantastic," Tina sighed. "Of course they show up when she's unhooked and not intubated. We've gotta do this now and it looks like we're only gonna have one shot. Brittany, tell me when you're ready and I'll move the mask," Tina said.

Brittany reached down uncertainly and held the sides of Quinn's face. She swallowed hard and said, "Ready."

I steadied myself because I knew I wasn't going to like what I was about to see.

Tina pulled the bag away from Quinn's face and Brittany bent down, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to Quinn's forehead.

_Come on. You are not that petty and jealous._

I was. I was petty and jealous enough to be upset that Brittany was kissing Quinn. I felt stupid for it, but that had never stopped me before and it wasn't stopping me now.

_At least you're not saying it out loud._

By the way Tina rolled her eyes at me, I could tell that my emotions were practically written all over my face.

The energy around Brittany changed quickly. It felt as if the air itself was charging up.

"Come on, Quinn," she whispered. "Come on."

We all stood still and waited for something to happen. Nothing did.

Tina looked at her watch and shook her head. "Thirty seconds, Brittany."

Brittany pulled her lips away briefly. "That's not enough time!"

"I have to let her breathe. Twenty seconds."

Brittany smashed her lips harder against Quinn's skin. "Please, Quinn. Please. Please Please."

She kept whispering over and over again as the air started to crackle around us. Tina's eyes were glued to her watch as time expired and continued to tick on.

"Hurry," Tina warned. "I'll give you twenty more seconds."

Brittany's body slowly began to rise off the bed and into the air. She grabbed the mattress with one hand and pulled herself back down. "No, no, no, come _on!_"

The heart rate monitor's screen flickered.

"Ten seconds."

"Quinn!" Brittany choked back a sob. "Wake up! _Please!"_

"Five. Four. Three-"

The heart monitor exploded into a shower of sparks and the room went dark for three seconds. When the lights came back on, Brittany was panting and staring at Quinn's closed eyes.

"Did it work? I felt something."

I looked up at Tina and she was smiling. She pointed at Quinn's chest. "Look."

Quinn was breathing on her own. She had only taken a dozen or so breaths before her eyes popped open and focused on the face that was six inches from hers.

"Quinn?" Brittany whispered.

"Brittany? Is that you?" Quinn's unfocused eyes darted around like pinballs. She was oddly alert and a little wired for someone who had just come out of a coma. Her voice wasn't raspy and rough from being intubated and I almost laughed when I realized that Brittany must have healed her throat, too.

Brittany let out a wild shriek of relief and pressed her forehead to Quinn's. "Quinn. Oh my god, Quinn."

She stroked Quinn's face tenderly as happy tears streamed down her cheeks.

"What happened? Where are we?" Quinn's breathing picked up. "Why is it so bright? Am I… are we…?"

"You're here now with me. That's all that matters."

She squinted hard. "It's real. I can't believe it. My mom was right."

Brittany gave her a puzzled look and brushed Quinn's hair out of her face. "Don't try to talk so much. Just rest now. It's okay, no one's going to-"

"Is your mom here?"

Brittany blanched at the unexpected question. "Um, no, she's not. I think you're a little disoriented. You should rest."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "But-"

"You're safe now. Rest so your mind can catch up with your body."

She gave Quinn a big kiss on the forehead. Quinn turned beet red. Her face broke out in the biggest smile and she looked like a completely different person. For once in her life, she actually looked genuinely happy. Slowly, she lifted an unsteady hand from the mattress and pulled Brittany's face closer before pressing her lips to Brittany's cheek. She closed her eyes and held Brittany there for an exceptionally long time.

I probably looked like I wanted to murder everyone in the world because instead of rolling her eyes at me, Tina found something interesting to look at on the wall. This kiss had nothing to do with healing. It had everything to do with Quinn trying to get her secret-gay-love-smooch on.

_What the hell, Fabray?_

When she finally let go, she blushed and smiled. "I've always wanted to do that."

_Something's not right. Quinn would never do some crazy shit like this._

Brittany just giggled, unaware of what Quinn was really saying. "I missed you, too."

The phone rang again. Himanshu didn't answer it. "It's probably the nurses' station again," he said. "We need to go down there."

Brittany jumped up excitedly and squeezed Quinn's shoulder. "I've got a surprise for you! Wait right here!"

She practically skipped out of the door with Tina and Himanshu hot on her heels.

"I'm not going anywhere," Quinn said dreamily to no one.

Something was off.

I stepped into Quinn's line of sight. Her head moved in my direction.

"Who is that?" she asked warily. She blinked. "Is that… you? Are you Jesus?"

I almost turned around to see if Joe Hart had somehow followed us to Columbus, but she was definitely talking to me. I walked up to the side of the bed and leaned down. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared.

"What are _you_ doing here?" The question was delivered without the healthy dose of hatred that normally accompanied it. The only emotion conveyed in Quinn's tone was complete and utter shock. "I mean, I wanted you to die, but I think you're in the wrong place."

As she blinked at me, waiting for an answer, my brain found a connection between all of the things Quinn had said. Everything started to make sense.

"You're not dead, Quinn," I said.

Her face fell. "What?"

"This isn't heaven. You're in the hospital. You're alive."

It took a moment for my statement to register and once it did, Quinn's face crumpled and she shut her eyes tightly. As much as I hated Quinn Fabray, I took no pleasure in seeing the light leave her eyes and seeing her lose the joy that had only come to her when she thought that she had died.

She took a deep shuddering breath and when she opened her teary eyes, all she said was "_Why?_"

_Because I saved your life? Because Brittany needed you? Because I didn't know you wanted to die?_

I didn't want to feel bad for her, but I did. She'd thought that she, Quinn Fabray with all of her same-sex feelings for her best friend, had made it into her mother's heaven to finally live in peace for eternity. And now she was here with me on Earth in the hospital.

_Would you have let her die if you had known that she wanted to?_

I knew the answer before I even asked the question.

_No. Never._

Fortunately, even though I couldn't give Quinn what she wanted, I could give her what she needed.

"Your family is going to be here in 30 seconds," I said quickly and firmly. "Keep those tears and pretend they're happy ones. Mo started drinking again. The girls had a falling out and they made up, but I don't know if they're 100% yet. Judy's going to have a million questions. I don't know if you remember anything that happened, but just say that you don't and things will be a hell of a lot smoother."

She gave me the tiniest head nod in acknowledgment.

I sighed. "Quinn… I know you don't really want to be here-"

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"-but Brittany is happy that you're alive. That should count for something."

She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. "It does. It's all that counts for anything."

The door opened and the Fabray and Pierce clans descended on Quinn like wolves.

* * *

><p>Quinn deserved an Emmy for her performance as Recovering Coma Patient in the made-for-TV movie "God, I Hate My Life."<p>

I almost applauded when Finn walked in and she teared up like she actually gave two shits about him. Brittany was not pleased and I almost expected her to rip into him for coming to the hospital and not visiting Quinn, but she held her tongue. Rachel showed up and didn't mention it either, but she had no reason to. As far as she knew, Finn had come to see Quinn every day.

Rachel and Judy usually didn't visit at the same time, so things got really uncomfortable really quickly. Rachel, much like Mo, was very big on hugs and Judy, much like Quinn, didn't want Rachel hugging Quinn.

_God forbid your precious woobie catch the queer._

I knew Rachel put up with Quinn's foolishness for Brittany's sake, but she also seemed to genuinely care about her. That was one relationship that I didn't even pretend to understand.

I was so engrossed in the never-ending drama that surrounded Quinn Fabray that I didn't notice Brittany trying to get my attention. Suddenly, the back of my neck started tingling and my head moved slowly in her direction. She was staring at me very intently. She jerked her head to the side and waited for me to decipher what that could possibly mean. I shrugged. She did a quick pantomime of texting and I nodded.

My phone was hidden under my mattress, but since no one was paying any attention to me, it was easy for me to whip it out. I pulled my legs up so that no one could see what I was doing in my lap.

My hands started tingling to the point of numbness. Brittany closed her eyes and very, very slowly, my thumbs moved across my screen. I was not a huge fan of Brittany controlling my mind and actions when I didn't know exactly what she was going to do. Truth be told, it scared the shit out of me.

_We need to have a talk about this._

I watched as my thumbs opened the Notes application and created a new note. Just then, Mo sat down on Brittany's bed and started talking to her. He was only slightly sauced today, definitely a lot less drunk than he'd been on previous visits. Brittany's eyes opened and my hands were frozen in my lap, thumbs hovering at the ready over the blank screen. Mo was breaking her concentration.

"Daddy, I'm so tired. Do you mind if I just rest my eyes for a little bit?" she asked super sweetly.

He patted his shoulder. "Of course, Britt-Britt."

Brittany rested her head against her dad's shoulder and my thumbs began moving again. They typed very slowly and deliberately, and when they were done, the message simply read **Finn was here**.

_Um… I don't get it. Finn is still here._

The feeling returned to my hands and I just sat there. Brittany discreetly opened one eye and stared at me. I gave my head a single shake.

_Message not received._

She closed her eyes again and my fingers started typing.

**I called him & he was driving. He walked in 10 mins l8r**

This time when I looked up, she was already staring at me. We locked eyes and I nodded. I knew what she meant.

When Brittany called Finn to tell him that Quinn had just woken up, he was _already _at the hospital. It was a two-hour drive from Lima to Columbus. For him to get to Quinn's room that quickly, he had to have been pulling into the parking lot when he answered the phone.

**I want 2 no y he's really here**

I shook my head. I didn't really care why Finn was there. Maybe the ice cream was good or something. Brittany was displeased with my response.

**I want 2 no whats more important than seeing Q**

I sighed. Brittany just wanted to be a good friend to Quinn. I thought it was pointless because Quinn probably didn't care and Finn was just a beard, but I didn't know if that was true. Beard or not, Quinn ran into a cloud of toxic spores for Finn. You don't do that for someone you have zero feelings for.

I rolled my eyes and reluctantly nodded, signaling that yes, I would do what Brittany asked and yes, even without mind control I was whipped. Brittany grinned and went back to pretending to be asleep.

_I'll get my best people on the job._

Tina was answering Judy's thirty million questions and David had wandered off somewhere. The only person hanging out on my side of the room was Himanshu.

_Or I'll just ask whoever is sitting here._

"Baby Figgins," I hissed. "Hey! Come here!"

He closed his copy of The Hunger Games and walked over. "I'm not really your nurse, you know. If you need a bed pan, I don't really do that kind of thing."

"First of all, you're gross. Secondly, I need you to do something."

I opened a new note on my phone and wrote **I need someone to figure out what Finn's been doing in the hospital. Go find David.**

He looked at my screen and frowned. "But I'm just getting into my book."

I snatched the book from his hand and threw it onto his chair. "Katniss dies. Now go do what I asked you to do."

"You're lying! I saw the trailer for the second-"

"Katniss. Dies. Now go."

He glared at me as he left the room.

Not long after he left, Mercedes and Sam showed up. They ooo-ed and ahh-ed over Quinn like everyone else, but neither of them knew her very well. Sam wasn't being as outwardly hostile as he usually was. In fact, he seemed a little smug. That was my first indication that something was going to go wrong for me.

Mercedes was being weird, too. She was holding my hand and sitting next to me on the bed, but she wasn't looking at me or talking very much.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

She gave me one of those soul-searching stares that always made me feel like a terrible person. "I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Santana. How are you?" Sam asked chipperly. He flopped down on the end of my bed and grinned. "Is your health improving? Feeling more energetic? Appetite good? What's going on?"

"I feel pretty good." I was choking him in my mind. "I think the doctors might let us go home soon."

"That's good. Everyone really misses you. In fact…" He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. When the phone started to ring, he put it on speaker phone and held it between us.

"What?" the person who answered snapped. Even if I hadn't recognized that crusty, old voice and that thick accent that I could never place, I only knew one person who consistently answered the phone that way.

"Uncle Zippy," Sam said. "Look who we found!"

He tilted the phone towards me and I took that as an indication for me to speak. "Hey, Zippy."

"Ah, so she lives!" Zippy said excitedly. "I thought maybe you could be dead or something, but here you are!"

"Disappointed?"

"Never! It is lovely to hear your voice. I have been thinking of you often." His tone changed completely to a somber one. "I was looking through some of my old things and I found a few items that I received some time ago. They belonged to Alma, but I think you should have them."

My heart skipped a beat. "You- you do?"

"Yes, both of the items… excuse me, but if you don't mind, I would like to discuss this privately."

"Oh sure," I took the phone from Sam and turned off the speaker. He looked wary of me, but he said nothing. "Go ahead, Zippy."

"Ah, much better. Anyway, as I was saying. I have some items for you to pick up."

"What are they?"

"Do you remember the bag I gave you? Two more bags have been delivered."

_The bag? The bag of money?_

"Wait, what? What about-"

"I have nothing from Alma." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I apologize for lying, but I could not tell you this on the speaker phone. I needed privacy. Your blond friend, he is trouble."

Sam was staring at me intently. I shook off the disappointment that threatened to wash over me now that I wasn't getting a memento from my abuela.

"Interesting. Why do you say that?" I asked, staring right back at Sam.

"Because he has been here asking _questions_," Zippy spat.

Snitching, talking too much, and not minding your own business were not desirable traits in West Lima. I should know. My sassy mouth had earned me more than a few trips to the dumpster. Sam was nosing around where he didn't belong and Zippy, the oldest of the Old School, was not pleased.

"I have told him nothing," Zippy said proudly, "but it is clear that he knows what is going on. _You_ have not been careful."

"_I_ have been in the hospital, old man!" I argued.

Mercedes rubbed my knee. "Is he upsetting you?"

I put my hand over the receiver. "No, he's just being Zippy."

"You are not being careful right now," Zippy went on. "They are listening to you and yet your mouth runs."

"You mean I'm running my mouth," I said dryly.

"This is what I said. Your friend most likely orchestrated this call so that one of us would say something incriminating. This is why he put us on speaker phone."

I wasn't really sure how we could have this conversation when Sam and Mercedes could hear everything I was saying.

"Look, Zip. I'll come pick up the stuff from you as soon as I get out of the hospital, okay?"

"No, you need to come get it now!" he yelled. "I cannot have these bags in the store! It is not safe!"

"I know you miss me, but you're just gonna have to wait." I smiled so that Mercedes would think that everything was okay.

"Santana, if the Knightmares return-"

"They won't."

"You do not know this."

"Have they done it yet?"

"…no."

"Then don't worry about it." I hung up Sam's phone and handed it back to him. "Thanks, Trouty."

"What did Zippy have from Abuela?" Mercedes asked.

"Some jewelry," I lied. "She gave it to him while I was away at school and he just thought it was time to return it to the family."

It was perfectly believable. Everyone knew that my abuela was close friends with Uncle Zippy. Giving him a token of her friendship at that particular point in her life would've made sense.

But it was a lie. I had promised Mercedes that I wasn't going to do that anymore, yet here we were.

_You can tell her the truth when you're not in a room full of Pierces and Fabrays._

I knew the truth. The truth was that I hadn't even come clean when it was just me, her, and Brittany in the room.

Mercedes voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "You're not…" she trailed off.

"I'm not what?"

"You're not going to sell it, are you?" Luckily, she wasn't looking at me because the look I gave her would've melted her face off.

"Why would you even ask me something like that?" I growled. "Do you really think I would do that?"

That got the attention of the blond people. Judy didn't really seem phased, but Brittany looked concerned.

"You can't tell me that you haven't started to worry about these hospital bills," Mercedes said evenly.

I hadn't. I hadn't even been smart enough to think about how I would explain the lack of hospital bills to the person who would be most concerned about how they would get paid.

"I don't care if I owe a million dollars," I deflected. "I wouldn't sell Abuela's jewelry. I think you know me better than that."

"I don't," Mercedes snapped. "I really don't. I don't know what you would do for money. Not anymore."

She stood up from the bed and started to gather her things. "I need to go."

"Mercedes." I put my hand on her arm, but she brushed it off. "Mercedes, will you just stop for a second?"

I was taken aback. Between Mercedes angry, hurt expression and Sam's smug smirk, I didn't know what to think. Then it hit me like a sock full of nickels.

_He told her._

_3._

I closed my eyes and balled my fists up, willing myself to calm down. I didn't know exactly what Sam had told Mercedes, but it was clear that she knew something.

_Now she thinks I'm some kind of scumbag._

I felt a hand on my arm. "I just- I need to go. Okay? I'll be back, but I need to go."

I nodded. She kissed my temple like she always did.

"Say goodbye, Sam."

She walked out of the room.

Sam smartly gave me a few seconds to calm down. He didn't speak until I opened my eyes and looked at him.

"You had no right," I fumed.

The smirk dropped off of his face. "No, _you_ have no right to treat her the way you do. I told you I was going to tell her and I gave you the chance to do it yourself. You didn't."

"What did you say to her, huh? I guarantee you that you don't know half of what you think you know."

"I only told her about the money that I found in your locker," he said. "It's the only thing I have proof of."

My stomach knotted. "Samuel, my money better be where I left it when I get back or you and I are going to have a serious problem."

"You already have serious problems. I think you need to worry about the target you seem to have on your back and how you're going to keep it off of the people you claim to love."

With that, he stormed out. All that team unity, forgiveness bullshit flew right out of the window as I flopped back on my bed and spent a very long time thinking about punching Sam in his big, fat, tattling fishmouth.

* * *

><p>An hour later, my phone buzzed.<p>

_Berlin: Found it. Had to rifle through some paperwork, but I found a "Finn Hudson" on the visitor sign-in sheets._

By that time, I'd forgotten that I even asked David to do something for me in the first place.

_Berlin: Room 1726. Patient's name is Karofsky._

I re-read that text about 50 times before responding.

_-WTF is Karofsky doing in this hospital?  
>Berlin: …I don't know who that is so I can't answer that for you.<em>

_-I need to get down there so I can find out what's going on.  
>Berlin: There's an empty room across the hall from 1726. It's a good place to listen in ;)<em>

_-Thanks, Winky.  
>Berlin: ;)<em>

I couldn't just get up and leave. Quinn and Britt's families were still in the room and it would look weird if I disappeared. Besides, Finn was here and not there.

Tina unexpectedly solved that problem for me when she announced that Quinn needed to be taken downstairs for some tests. I didn't realize that she was serious until she brought a wheelchair over to Quinn's bed. She signaled to Himanshu for help.

"How are you supposed to take her in for testing?" I whispered to Himanshu. "She doesn't even go here!"

"We don't have all of the equipment we need at the warehouse and we really do need to check her out," he whispered back. "Uncle Raj pulled some strings. We have a small window to do everything we need to do, but I think we'll be fine."

The family said tearful goodbyes and Mo hugged everyone way too hard. I could tell Tina was in a hurry because she was fidgeting. She eventually rolled Quinn into the hall just so they could make their way towards the elevators.

The door closed, leaving Brittany and I alone together. We listened to the click-clack of Judy's heels until they got to the end of the hall.

"I know where Finn's going after this," I blurted out. "Room 1726."

"What's in there?" Brittany asked.

"Karofsky, one of the cops from the mugging. The one that was wearing a cast the other day."

At the mention of the mugging, she flinched. "B-but he seemed fine when they pulled us over. Why would he go to a hospital two hours away from Lima?"

"I don't know, to hide what they did?" I shrugged. "I'll go check it out and find out what's going on."

"San, we can't go down there like this. Right now, Finn doesn't know that we're on to him. If he sees us, we're screwed."

"Us?"

"You're not going by yourself," she said simply. "It's dangerous."

_Which is exactly the reason I want to go alone._

She didn't look like she was going to be persuaded by that argument. Instead, I said "it's harder to sneak around with two people than it is with one."

Brittany got up, walked across the room, and reached into Himanshu's bag. She pulled out an extra pair of scrubs.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

* * *

><p>We stepped off of the elevator on the 17th floor with our hair stuffed under ugly surgeon's caps and our faces covered with paper surgical masks. Surprisingly, we didn't get too many odd stares as we quickly marched down the hall towards Karofsky's room.<p>

"I think we're home free," Brittany whispered.

Half a second later, we turned a corner and I slammed into a large body.

It was Karofsky. He was holding his car keys and wearing a hat. Clearly, he had just come from outside.

The phrase "what the fuck" was on the tip of my tongue and about to fly out of my mouth when Brittany yanked me back.

"Terribly sorry," she said in the most convincing British accent I've ever heard. "In a bit of a hurry, lives to save and all that."

"Whatever," Karofsky grumbled, shouldering past us and continuing down the hall.

We waited until he closed the door to Room 1726 before walking down the hall and entering Room 1727. I closed the door behind us and took my mask off.

"Where, may I ask, did _that_ come from?"

"Quinn and I used to use fake accents at bars for fun," she said distractedly. "Keep your mask on. The blinds are open."

I pulled my mask back on. The blinds were open across the hall in 1726, too. Karofsky was standing by the window and Finn was sitting in a chair nearby. Sitting in the bed was a hulking beast of a man. He was practically the same height sitting down as Karofsky was standing up. They had the same short, brown hair, the same hard, brown eyes, and the same angular jaw.

The man in the hospital bed was definitely a Karofsky. He just wasn't the one I'd had in mind.

Out of curiosity, my eyes wandered to the end of the bed. I was sure that someone his size would have his legs dangling off the end, too tall to fit in the standard hospital twin bed.

His legs weren't dangling over the edge. He didn't have any legs. The sheets on his bed sloped downward from his lap and went completely flat below his knee.

The blinds closed abruptly in front of my face and I jumped back.

"We can't just stare at them through the window with our mouths hanging open," Brittany said.

I closed my mouth.

"Do you want to, I don't know, use super hearing or something?" she asked uncertainly. She was new to this.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," I assured her. We walked over to the nearest bed. As we sat down, she took my hand in hers, closed her eyes, and concentrated. I copied her actions and powered up.

_3._

I focused my hearing straight across the hall.

"-just woke up today, so that's pretty sweet," Finn was saying. "You can come by and visit if you want."

"Finn, shut the fuck up," the other Karofsky snapped. "Nobody fucking cares. Moron."

Brittany's grip tightened around my hand. "That's the other guy from the mugging. I remember his voice, too."

I didn't doubt her for a second. Her memory of the muggers' voices was the only thing that could have pieced everything together in the first place.

The new Karofsky continued his angry rant. "Why would I want to meet her anyway? You're the only one who's even allowed to have contact with those bitches. So no, I don't want to visit your little girlfriend. I've got my own medical problems to worry about… you know, since you let some glowing freak sneak up on me and blow my goddamn legs off!"

An awkward silence filled the room as realization slowly dawned on me.

_That was me. I destroyed this man's legs._

My stomach lurched.

It was in a fit of rage, but that didn't change the fact that I'd purposely shot someone with the same beams that had blown off my thumb. I knew what kind of damage they were capable of and I did it anyway.

I didn't realize that I was swaying until Brittany touched my shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I swallowed hard to stop the bile from rising in my throat. "Let's keep listening."

Dave Karofsky cleared his throat. "They've got the best doctors in the state here, Paul. You're gonna walk again, I promise."

"Fuck. You," Paul spat. "Every day, you come in here crying all over the place about how great my new legs are gonna be. _My legs_ are in a fucking alley dumpster somewhere. So go fuck yourself."

"Look, I'm just trying to be optimistic," Karofsky mumbled.

"Take your optimism and shove it up your ass. Look at you, walking around with that cast on like you're really hurt."

"You shot me!" he yelled. Remembering himself, he lowered his voice and repeated in an angry hiss, "you shot me!"

"You're gonna milk that for all it's worth. Man up, you little faggot."

Only someone with super hearing could've heard the small intake of breath that David Karofsky took when he heard the word "faggot." He didn't exhale. He was just standing there holding his breath, holding in the pain of a carelessly thrown insult that had cut deeper than intended.

I was probably one of very few people in the world who knew why that word could stop his breathing. Unfortunately for David Karofsky, I was incapable of feeling sorry for him. Not after what he'd done to Brittany. Not ever.

"And you," Paul snarled at Finn. "Suddenly, you give a fuck about me and you want to visit all the time. You come here every day for what? To hide?"

"I'm not hiding," Finn protested.

"Yeah, right. Some purple fairy comes along and kicks your ass in your super suit, but you're not hiding? You afraid, 'Finntastic'?"

"No," Finn said firmly.

Paul laughed. "I'm actually glad you got your ass kicked, Finn. Now Tanaka can see who really had balls this whole time and who was just a spineless coward."

"I-I am _not_ a coward!"

"You stood in the corner and watched my legs get blown off!" Paul started slow clapping. "Thank you, Mr. Finntastic! My hero!"

"I am _not_ a coward!" Finn bellowed, "and I'm not here to visit you! I'm here to watch you!"

Paul must not have been expecting that. After a beat of silence, he whispered, "what?"

"I… I mean… shit."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Paul growled.

After what seemed like an eternity, Finn mumbled, "It's that girl. Joanne. She came back."

Something squeaked loudly.

"What are you doing?" Karofsky sounded alarmed. "Don't try to get up!"

"I thought Tanaka was gonna take care of that bitch!" Paul seethed. It sounded like he was rocking the bed.

"She came back with another girl and…" Finn coughed awkwardly. "They're both saying that you raped them. They're threatening to go to the news."

"There's no such thing as 'news' in Lima. They say what we let them say." Paul scoffed. "Feed those bitches to the beast and this will all be over with."

Finn's next words were barely audible. "Paul, one of them is pregnant. She says it's yours. You can't… there's evidence, dude."

The room was silent for at least two minutes.

"Pregnant?" Karofsky whispered. "It-it's not yours. She's lying, right? It's not yours because you didn't rape her. You said you didn't even know her, right? Right?"

"He's not gonna help me, is he?" Paul said flatly. "Tanaka? He's gonna let me burn this time."

Finn didn't respond. Paul let out a gasping choke of laugh.

"Answer me, you fuck!" he shouted. "You know what? Don't. I already know the deal. I know Ken Fucking Tanaka. As long as he can use you, you're fucking golden. You're untouchable. But me? I got no legs. I can't do his dirty work now so I'm gonna go down in flames for this."

"You said you were gonna stop, man." Karofsky let out a whine that sounded like a balloon deflating. "You said you weren't gonna do it again. Oh my god."

"Jesus, look at the two of you! Pale as a couple of ghosts." Paul Karofksy's voice morphed into something twisted and raw. "Do you think you can judge me? You fuckers never want to get your hands dirty. You want the glory of being Tanaka's go-to guys, but when it's time to do what needs to be done, you stand back while I take care of business. You have no problem with me shooting a guy in the back of the head, but you're gonna leave me high and dry on account of two _sluts_?"

"I'm out of here. Let's go, Finn."

"Weren't you listening? Finn's gotta stay and babysit me!" He laughed darkly. "Fine. Walk out of here. Take your holier-than-thou bullshit and don't come back. But I'm warning you now. Without me, you're on your own. Tanaka will eat your fucking soul if you let him. If you don't, he'll destroy you. And he's never satisfied. Hell, I was the one who came up with the whole plan to shut Shelby Cocksucker down, I lost my legs doing it, and this is the thanks that I get. He's one ungrateful son of a bitch."

"Yeah, he stopped covering up your rapes," Karofsky sneered. "What a jerk."

"Get the fuck out," Paul hissed. "Have a nice life, baby bro. The only ones watching your back now are Chickenshit Azimio and _this_ guy. So don't let your guard down. The last guy who let Finn Hudson watch his back ended up with big ol' bullet in it. Just saying."

The door opened and slammed. Karofsky's feet pounded linoleum as he stormed down the hallway and out of the hospital, probably forever.

* * *

><p>Brittany didn't speak even after we got back to the room. She just changed back into her hospital gown and sat on her bed. I knew Tina and Himanshu would be bringing Quinn back eventually. I wasn't going to get a lot of opportunities to talk to Brittany now that Quinn was awake. I had to talk to her before they came back.<p>

"Britt?" I sat down next to her.

She shook her head, biting her lip and looking down at her hands. "It's not right, Santana. It's just not right."

I didn't have to ask what she was talking about. The whole situation was fucked up beyond belief.

"How many girls has that guy raped? He's supposed to be protecting everyone and upholding the law! The police department just covers it all up." She wrung her hands in her lap. "I knew they were bad before the mugging. I mean, they were treating Quinn and Shelby and I like crap for a while. But this… these girls, Bryan Ryan...who are they gonna hurt next? We let our guards down after Finn 'saved' us and now he's dating Quinn. Ugh. Finn. He's a part of all of this. He's no hero if he's letting all of this go on. And that other guy. He acted so disgusted with his brother, but he was the one who made me think that he was going to _rape_ me." Her voice broke. She was shaking.

"Brittany-"

"What would have happened if you hadn't shown up? Maybe they would've let Paul… oh god. Do you think Finn would have just sat there and let him do it? How long was he going to wait to pop out and 'save the day'? They _killed_ Bryan, put a 'big ol' bullet' in his back just to shut Shelby up. So maybe raping us to shut her up wouldn't have been a big deal to them. Maybe that's right up their alley."

I rubbed my hand up and down her back. "You don't have to be afraid-"

Her head snapped up and her expression was hard and fierce. "I'm not afraid, Santana. I'm angry. The city of Lima trusts these people and they're abusing their power. They're destroying people's lives. It's not right and it's not fair. They're not heroes. They're the real menaces. It's not fair that the whole city thinks you're a villain and worships Finn. It's not fair that I made them think that you were a villain by helping with that _stupid_ article. I'm so s-"

"I'm not going to let you beat yourself up about that." She opened to her mouth to protest, but I wasn't having it. "You didn't know and I wasn't being honest with you. It's not your fault."

She frowned. "I trusted the guys who used to spray paint 'slut' on my car before I trusted Rumplestil- before I trusted you. Whether or not you want an apology, I'm giving you one."

She sat back against her pillows, leaning her head against my shoulder. I rested my head on top of hers and we stayed like that for a while, staring at the wall on the other side of the room.

"I think-" she hesitated for a moment and shifted her weight, "-I think someone should do something about this."

My stomach, which hadn't felt quite right for some time, did another round of somersaults.

"There are only a handful of people that could 'do something about this,'" I said evenly. "We both know that McKinley isn't interested in solving the problems of Lima, so I can only assume you're talking about you and me."

She didn't answer me. I sighed.

"Brittany, we've already got Kurt and his super goons to deal with. We're already working with Shelby to write her exposé. I don't think we should be putting anything else on our plates right now. Like an entire police department."

She lifted her head and looked at me incredulously. "Santana, a cop is out there raping girls-"

"Well, I destroyed his legs," I said tonelessly. "He's probably not even going to walk again."

Brittany studied my face for a moment before her eyes widened. "You feel bad about it, don't you? Why? Santana, he was a serial rapist and _you_ stopped him."

She was staring at me so intensely that I had to look away. I thought about my initial reaction to finding out about Paul's legs. I thought about my queasy stomach that refused to settle.

"I don't feel bad for him," I started, "and he totally deserve what he got, but I can't sit here and applaud myself for a job well done because I didn't do that on purpose. It was random luck, Brittany. I didn't shoot Paul because of who he was or what he had done. I didn't know any of that until today. I just shot the person closest to me. That's not justice." My breathing was picking up and I felt panic rise in my chest. "I'm not Spiderman. I can't wrap bad people up in a web and wait for the cops to come get them. We don't have law enforcement now. So do we become the judge, jury, and executioner? Do we have to decide who lives and who dies and who gets permanently maimed? I made a split second decision that Paul Karofsky should lose his legs and I can't even tell you why I did it. I could've just knocked him out, but I didn't. So what happens next time? What about Paul's brother, Dave? What has he done? Do I cut off his legs? His arms? His head? Should I kill Azimio or Finn? We only get a fraction of a second to decide what justice is. I shouldn't be the one making those kinds of calls. It's a big responsibility and I'm not qualified."

Brittany pulled me to her and I rested my head on her chest. The panic subsided slightly, but my stomach couldn't be tamed.

"You wanna know how I know that you _are_ qualified?" She smoothed my hair down and rubbed my scalp like Mercedes always did. "Because you're questioning your judgment. Because you care about justice and you care about doing it the right way. That's how I know. You don't have to worry about hurting someone who's innocent, San. Anyone who's in cahoots with Tanaka probably has blood on their hands. And you're right, you're never gonna know how much blood, but you- _we_ are gonna send a message: it doesn't pay to get involved with stuff like that, not even a little bit. I mean, that's the whole point of having superheroes, isn't it? They're a deterrent."

I shrugged. "I guess so."

"Where you questioning your judgment when you stopped the Knightmares from robbing Zippy Mart?" she asked.

"That whole thing, it was something I needed to do to, um…"

"To what?"

I gulped. "You thought Finn was the hero. I wanted you to see that it was me."

Brittany sat up straighter on the bed. "Wait, that big production you put on was for me? Setting that liquor store on fire and everything?"

"That part was an accident," I mumbled.

I expected her to push me off the bed or something, but instead she kissed my forehead and laughed. "You're nuts, do you know that?"

"That's the popular theory," I said. Our smiles faded and the mood was somber again. "Brittany, I could really fuck this up. I'm used to being judgmental, but like, in a harmless, bitchy kind of way. I really, really don't want to kill anybody."

"I know you're afraid," she whispered into my hair, "but you wouldn't be alone. I'd be right there with you. We can help each other."

"Can I have some time to think about it? Can I sleep on it?"

"Of course."

I buried my face into her shirt, enjoying that last few moments of cuddling that we would be getting for a while.

_You wouldn't be alone. I'd be right there with you._

Of all the things that scared me, _that_ was what scared me the most.

* * *

><p>We were "released" from the hospital two days later.<p>

I didn't call Mercedes to pick me up. She hadn't called or come back to visit, so I figured she was still mad at me and I didn't want to sit in a car with her for two hours.

Quinn was still getting used to walking again and she had some balance issues, so we swiped a wheelchair for her. Brittany had been helping her take small trips around the room to practice walking and Judy had arranged for a physical therapist to help her at home. Quinn almost had an aneurysm when Judy suggested that Quinn come home with her, but Brittany insisted that she and Rachel would take good care of Quinn at their apartment.

Private time with Brittany had pretty much evaporated. My very presence seemed to aggravate Quinn, so I kept to myself and didn't talk much. Normally, I wouldn't mind bothering Quinn, but since Quinn's happiness was directly tied to Brittany's, I left her alone.

We were able to discreetly text each other, which we did up until the very last second.

_Brittany: You gonna be okay tonight?  
>-I think I'll be alright.<em>

_Brittany: I would be there if I could. I just don't want to leave Quinn alone.  
>-It's ok. Mercedes probably isn't going to stab me. I hope.<em>

_Brittany: Well, if she takes it badly, just tell her to call me, okay?  
>-Ok, I will.<em>

Judy was fussing over Brittany and Quinn for no good reason. She seemed full of nervous energy, like she just needed someone to need her. Mo was actually sober. He was quietly talking to Tina about Quinn's medications. After hearing about Brittany's childhood, I couldn't help the hatred that burned inside of me, right below the surface.

_Where was all that tender loving care when Brittany lost her mom? Where was all that compassion when Quinn was pregnant?_

I want to shake them. I wanted to slap them both for neglecting their children, but I couldn't because Brittany would never forgive me.

_Brittany: You're glaring at my family.  
>-I keep thinking about everything you told me and it makes me upset.<em>

_Brittany: It's gonna be okay. My dad is sober. That means Judy is back in the house now. It'll be fine._

I wasn't convinced.

_Brittany: Santana. Stop glaring.  
>-Sorry : I just want them to treat you the way you deserve to be treated._

_Brittany: It's okay. My girlfriend takes great care of me :)_

I looked up and Brittany was smirking at me. I ducked my head and hid my smile.

Mojo cleared her throat, interrupting our moment. "Santana, is your ride coming? We can take you back to Lima if you need a lift."

Judy and Quinn both glared at me like they'd rather take turns rolling each other home in the wheelchair than ride in a car with me.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm good," I said, looking up at the clock. "Just running behind schedule. I'll be fine."

"Good." Judy sounded relieved for all the wrong reasons. "Is there anything else you need from us, Dr. Puckerman?"

Tina was a bucketful of cheer with a dash of sunshine. "Nope! You're all good to go, Ms. Fabray!"

I think she was just glad that they were all leaving.

The Pierce and Fabray clans gathered their belongings and made their way out into the hallway. Brittany gave me a small wave on her way out and the door slammed shut behind her, leaving me alone with Tina and Himanshu.

"Alright, folks!" Tina clapped her hands together. "Let's get back to the warehouse. David will give you a ride home later this afternoon, Santana."

"Whoopee," I muttered. As much as I missed Mercedes, I wasn't excited about the conversation that we were going to have- assuming she even wanted to talk to me. The worst part was that Brittany wasn't going to be with me to make it easier. She wasn't even down the hall yet and I already missed her.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll see your sweetie pie when you get back to Lima," Himanshu teased.

I rolled my eyes, trying not to look and sound as pathetic as I felt. I was just about to say something rude when the door opened. Brittany slid back into the room and shut the door behind her. She rushed over to me, pulled me into her arms, and kissed me deeply.

_2._

It happened so quickly that it took a second for me to process what was going on.

_She's kissing you._

I distinctly heard Himanshu's scandalized gasp and Tina's quiet giggling.

_She's kissing you IN FRONT OF PEOPLE._

This wasn't like that weird, psychic spell-breaking kiss we'd had when she was throwing Puck around with her mind or like Joe Hart catching us kissing in the hallway. This was Brittany initiating a kiss when she _knew_ people were watching. If I wasn't in the middle of being kissed, I would have started tap dancing.

Brittany broke the kiss, looked straight into my eyes, and said, "I told them I had to pee."

"Oh," I said stupidly.

"But I wanted to come back and give you real goodbye since I don't know when I can see you again."

"Soon." The unexpected kiss had reduced me to single word sentences.

Brittany turned to Tina and Himanshu, blushing something fierce. "Sorry."

I didn't know if she was apologizing for the PDA or the gayness of it. Probably both. Now that the kiss was over, she looked very embarrassed.

"No need to apologize," Tina said kindly.

I glared at Himanshu and he wisely refrained from commenting.

Brittany squeezed my hand. "I gotta go."

"Ok." Words continued to fail me.

"Goodbye, San."

"Bye."

Brittany walked out and the door closed again.

"She calls you San?" Tina chuckled. "That is so cute."

"Can I call you San?" Himanshu asked hopefully.

Whatever spell Brittany had placed on me broke and I regained my ability to speak in full sentences. "Call me San and your second call will be to 911."

"Then it's a good thing we're already at the hospital…" he said as he slowly walked to the door. He opened it and stuck one foot out. "…right, San?"

I lunged at him and he darted out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. He knew I couldn't hit him in public.

Tina was still smirking, even as I scowled at the door. "You and Brittany are adorable."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious. I'm not going to pretend that I know you very well, but I think she's really good for you."

I snorted. "Thank you, Dr. Phil."

Tina just smiled at me for a second before patting me on the arm. "Being in love suits you."

She grinned at me while I stood there in shock. As soon as she turned around, I scrubbed at my face with both hands to get rid of any evidence that Santana Lopez was in _love_, of all fucking things.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

And there you have it :)

Before anyone says "hey, there's not enough THC in bong water to (insert science here)": I am aware. Lazy googling of the subject has revealed this fact to me. I left it in there anyway because the Goo has always been dirty bong water to me.

So we set up some stuff in this chapter and if we're not all dead by the time I update again, we'll see some big thangs happening next time. Like big. Like huge. Ginormous, even.

This chapter was called "This is Your Brain on Drugs" for a very long time. I renamed it "Fierce" because we got some Fabray/Pierce backstory and Brittany was just ready to fight this whole fucking chapter.

If you're still here, hey, I love the shit out of you. If you left, hey, I love the shit out of you, too.

See you six months!  
>Just kidding, that's not funny!<br>-LateInLifeTiburón


	17. Homecoming

**A/N: **As some of you already know, this is really only half of a chapter, so if it feels incomplete, that's why. I wanted to update, so I thought this was a good stopping point. This chapter is mostly Sancedes-related and I realize that not everyone cares about that lol, but I didn't want any more time to pass without a chapter.

Disclaimer:  
>Q: What do you call a cheesy, messy show that's not yours?<br>A: Nacho Glee.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17: Homecoming<strong>

I told David that I needed to run a few errands before he dropped me off. When I directed him to parallel-park in front of Zippy Mart, he hesitated.

"You do remember what happened the last time we were here, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, but this time, I'm going inside and you're staying in the car," I explained. "You're probably way better at following directions than I am, so I don't anticipate us having any issues."

"Well, hurry back," he said, guiding his expensive sports car into the parking space with ease. "I don't want to hurt anybody, but if they try to steal my baby, we're going to have a problem."

I hopped out of the car and walked up to the store like I wasn't afraid of getting robbed. In Lima Heights, if you act like you're exactly where you're supposed to be, you're less likely to get killed (but statistically speaking, you're probably gonna get killed).

The bell above the door alerted Zippy to my presence. He looked up and grinned. "Ah, the ghost. She has returned to haunt me once more."

I rolled my eyes. "Only because you're such a pleasant and accommodating host, Zip."

He rushed past me to the front of the store and locked the door behind me. "I am guessing that you have come for your 'belongings.' We must hurry so that you can get the hell out of my store."

"What's the rush?" I laughed, following him as he speed-walked into the back of the store. "If you keep getting these bags, it'll be a good excuse for me to visit, right?"

Zippy didn't speak until he was seated at the desk in his office. There were two black messenger bags sitting there, identical to the one I'd gotten before. He gave me a withering look and rested his chin on his hairy, old knuckles.

"Would _you_ want to be holding these in _your_ store in _this_ neighborhood?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, Zip," I mumbled. "I didn't mean to get you mixed up in this."

He waved my words away. "Apologies are meaningless now. We are not in control of these circumstances," he said gruffly.

It was his way of saying that he still thought it was my fault, but he wasn't going to hold it against me.

Just like the last time, there was a note stuck to one of the bags. I opened the flaps, verifying that both bags were full of money as I had initially suspected. Then I opened the note.

_To the vigilante:_

_Bravo! You've exceeded my expectations by leaps and bounds! That disruption at the mall was simply amazing. I must admit that I was quite impressed by your ingenuity and flare for theatrics. Interrupting a ceremony to honor the city's favorite hero was brilliant. I'm very much aware that there are others who contributed to the melee and that they are far more deserving of credit than you are, but all things considered, that brawl would have ended very differently without you. Thank God you were there to send that situation spiraling out of control._

_Although I'm pleased with and amused by your zany antics thus far, I'm not so sure about your commitment to this cause. Against my better judgment, I've doubled your reward this time. Take this generous gift as a bit of motivation and a vote of confidence in your ability to eventually do something meaningful._

_While I could continue to give you money every time you embarrass the police department (I certainly have the means to do so), I fear that it will make you even lazier and more complacent than I already suspect you to be. So don't expect any more money until you've created some true chaos._

_No more dessert until you've cleaned your plate._

"What an asshat," I muttered, folding up the note and slipping it into my back pocket. "Thanks for holding on to these for me, Zippy."

Zippy was staring at the black bags. "What will you do with the money?"

"If you're looking for a finder's fee, you're gonna have to wait." I picked up one of the bags and slipped the strap over my shoulder. "I have debts to pay. Once I get those squared away, you'll be handsomely rewarded for your trouble. I promise."

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "No, no. Do not tempt me. It is your money and I cannot guarantee that I can resist such an offer at a time like this."

"At a time like what? Ten thirty?"

"You know that is not what I mean," Zippy said, rolling his eyes. His anger deflated immediately and he plopped down in his chair. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "I am being sued."

"Sued?" I asked incredulously. "By who?"

Zippy narrowed his eyes. "By that squishy criminal, Bamboo!" He slammed his fist on the desk with all of the strength of a 3000-year-old man.

It took a second for the name to register in my head and a few more seconds for me to remember the doughy face that belonged to it. "Wait, Howard Bamboo? That teddy-bear looking guy? Isn't he in jail?"

"Yes," Zippy hissed, "On the night of his crimes, he says that he was here. The security cameras were broken so he had no alibi. He is saying that I am negligent for not fixing them."

I looked up at the shiny, high-tech security cameras screwed into each corner of the store. Pretty much every store in the Heights with anything worth stealing was going to have security cameras.

"They don't look broken to me," I said.

"That is because they are not broken!" he shouted. It was the kind of shout that told me he'd said it a billion times to a million different people. "Do you think I would have broken security cameras in this neighborhood? I keep them running all the time! I gave those cops all of the footage I have! I do not know what they want from me! This woman is out for my blood. She just wants someone to get in trouble!"

"What woman?" I asked.

"Bamboo sends his big, crazy lawyer over here to yell at me. That woman, that _Bieste,_" Zippy said with a tone that could only convey pure and utter hatred.

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, no. This is her name. Shannon Bieste. If I want to call her something bad, I have much worse names than that!"

"Did Howard Bamboo pay with a credit card?" I asked.

"He says he did not buy anything! It was 'too expensive,'" Zippy sneered.

"Oh. That sucks."

"Yes. It is very sucky."

"I'm sorry, Zippy," I said honestly. "You don't deserve that. You might be a crazy old man, but you're a pretty decent human being."

"Well, you know what is said. Life is not fair."

"Amen to that, Zip. Amen to that."

* * *

><p>Ladies Night was the next logical stop because I still didn't want to keep large sums of money at my apartment. Sam was the only one who knew about the contents of my locker. No one else was going to open it or care about what was in it.<p>

We drove past the employee lot. Mercedes's car wasn't there. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Drop me off in the back," I told David. "I'll find a way home from here."

"Are you sure? I can run you back to your place."

"I'm sure."

David nodded and drove his fancy car around to the back of the building. I hopped out and he opened the trunk for me to retrieve my messenger bags. I paused for a moment, leaning my forehead against the open trunk door and peering down at the bags of money.

_Take the money. Pay your debts. Hang up your hat and call it a day._

I sighed, wondering what the hell I was going to do with the ever-increasing weirdness in my life. I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost jumped out of my skin when two arms wrapped themselves around my waist from behind. The owner of the arms buried their face into my back and let out a small whimper. I knew who it was as soon as I looked down. I would recognize those ridiculously expensive bangles anywhere. I stroked my hand across her forearms gently.

"Motta, you can't sneak up on me like that," I warned her. "I was two seconds from ending you."

She shook her head against my back and released me. By the time I turned around, she was already facing the opposite direction with her shoulders hunched and her arms wrapped around herself.

I lifted my bags out of the trunk, set them on the ground, and slammed the trunk closed before signaling to David that it was okay for him to leave. He seemed reluctant to go once he saw Sugar, but I waved him along until he started his car and drove away.

I turned back to Sugar, draping my arm over her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

She looked at me with big, sad eyes. "The last time I saw you, I made you work the bar in your underwear."

I laughed. "Yeah, you did. At least I didn't have to work a pole. I don't think anyone would've wanted to see that disaster."

"It's not funny, Santana," she said. "That could've been the last time I ever saw you and I made you do something you hated."

I rubbed her back comfortingly, scraping my hand on her orange sequined dress. "It's okay. I'm back. I'm not dead. No need to feel bad about what could have happened."

She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. "One of these days, you're gonna disappear and not come back and the last thing I said to you will be-"

I stuck my finger in her face. "Hey. You push my buttons and I push your buttons. That's how we work."

She sniffled. "I know, but-"

"No buts. I don't want you treating me any differently than you normally do, okay?"

She just stared at me with glassy eyes.

"Sugar. Seriously." I was practically begging. "Don't go acting weird on me. I need normal right now and as much as I hate to say it, this might be the most normal relationship I have."

"Fine, have it your way," she grumbled. She gave me a quick side-hug before sliding out from under my arm, wiping her eyes again, and straightening her dress. "If you tell anyone I was crying, I'll deny it."

"I'll just tell them that you were out here turning tricks for sequins like you usually do." I picked up my bags from the ground and started to walk towards the back door. "What _are_ you doing out here anyway?"

She shrugged. "Taking a smoke break."

"You don't smoke."

"I'm smoking hot in this dress and I needed a break, so… same thing."

"Sugar, you look like a tangerine at Pride."

"I'm not taking fashion advice from someone who usually shows up for her shift looking like the end of the 90s."

"Were you even alive in the 90s? Weren't you born in like, 2006 or something?"

She smiled. I smiled back. Normalcy had been achieved.

We walked back inside and when we reached the door to the employee lounge, I stopped. "Hey, I'll be out there in a second."

She kept walking down the hall towards the club. "Well, hurry up. I wanna do a shot of something terrible before I have to start working again."

When I walked into the lounge, it was empty.

_Success!_

I walked over to my locker and opened it. Sitting at the bottom of the locker was the first messenger bag that I'd received. I lifted the flap. It was still full of money. I don't know what I thought Sam had planned to do with it while I was gone, but it appeared that everything was exactly the way that I'd left it. I slid the other two bags in and they fit perfectly. The locker was getting a little full, but that was a problem for another day.

_Mission accomplished._

The lounge door opened and closed behind me. I froze. When the person who walked in didn't say anything about me randomly being at Ladies Night, I knew it had to be someone who was mad at me. I spun on my heel and Sam was standing there in a pair of swim trunks with his arms folded over his chest. It must have been body paint night because he had all kinds of nonsense written on him. Someone had even drawn a pair of glasses on his face.

"Sugar said you were in here," he said.

I shrugged. "Yup. Here I am."

He walked over to the bench in front of our lockers and sat down. There was a towel draped along the bench and he used it to start wiping the paint off of his body.

"So you left the hospital and you didn't bother saying anything to anyone?" he asked.

"Mercedes hasn't talked to me in two days and nobody else cares," I grumbled. "I figured it would be easier for both of us if I just found my own ride home."

He laughed humorlessly. "That's so… you. I don't know what I expected."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that only you would show up completely unannounced and not care about how Mercedes is gonna react to that. It fits in with this new…" he waved his hand around "thing you're doing where you don't really think about her feelings."

I slammed my locker door shut. "Ok, you know what, Samuel? I've had it up to here with your bullshit. What the fuck is your problem?"

He looked at me like he didn't even know who I was. "You. You're my problem."

I snorted. "So you hate me. How original. Take a number, Trouty."

He shook his head. "I don't hate you, Santana. I've just had enough of this."

"Of what exactly?"

"This!" He stood up and gestured toward my locker. "Whatever crazy shit you have going on is poisoning _everything_ and you've got your head so far up your own ass that you can't even see it!"

He stood there fuming for a few seconds before he turned around and opened his locker. He pulled out a pair of jeans and went fishing around in the pockets before pulling out a crumpled wad of yellow paper.

"Here," he said, thrusting it towards me.

I snatched the paper from him and began to unfold it. It was actually several pieces of paper stuck together. Once I'd pulled a few of them apart, I realized that they were sticky notes. When I saw Kurt's familiar purple scrawl, my stomach dropped.

_Tell Santana that all of my offers have been rescinded.  
>I hope you have enjoyed your short, boring lives.<em>

"That guy has been breaking in and leaving messages while Mercedes and I are sleeping," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It doesn't matter where we are- my apartment, your apartment, my parents' house, a hotel. He finds us."

_Keep your friends close.  
>Keep your enemy's friends closer.<br>Close enough to touch._

Sam's hands were shaking. "If I stay up all night, he won't come in, but if I fall asleep even for a few minutes, I find one of these on my forehead."

_All I wanted was cooperation.  
>Now I require blood to be spilled.<br>It will be yours. Thank Santana._

The last sticky note had a gun drawn on it. I flipped it over.

_Santana missed her shot.  
>I will not miss mine.<em>

"That one… that one was on her chest." A sob broke free from Sam's mouth and he coughed roughly, choking the rest of his sobs down. "He put it over her heart."

I sat down hard on the bench. I felt like I was going to throw up. I put my face in my hands and tried to slow my breathing. "Does she know about this?"

"No. I always hide the notes before she wakes up. Every time I want to try sleeping somewhere else, I make up an excuse and she buys it for the most part."

"When did this start?"

"The day after you disappeared again. After the mall thing."

I crumpled the notes into a ball and threw them at the wall. "Sam, what the hell?! Why didn't you tell me about this?"

He threw his hands up in the air. "Because you already knew this was going to happen, Santana! You told that guy in the purple suit that you didn't want to work for him and he said it was going to be 'open season' on us! I was there, remember? I heard him and so did you. You made your choice and now we're all going to pay for it."

"He's not going to kill you. He's just doing this to fuck with me." I wasn't sure if that was true. I didn't even know if I believed it.

"Well, now he's fucking with me and he's fucking with Mercedes and I can't take any risks. Not with her. I can't lose her. I just can't." He shook his head and pulled at his hair with both hands. "I have to protect her from this. From you. That's why… that's why we have to leave."

"Wait, what?" I slowly lifted my head. "What are you talking about?"

He dropped his hands and looked at the floor. "I love you, Santana. I know you don't believe that right now, but it's true. You introduced me to the love of my life and-"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Sam?" I yelled over him.

"-I'll always be grateful for that, but I can't let you get her killed. I can't let you ruin our lives over this, whatever it is. That's why I've been trying to get her to leave Ohio. I've been trying everything I can to get her to go-"

"No." I said firmly. "You don't have to leave. That's not necessary."

"Somebody's threatening to _kill_ us, Santana!" he shouted.

"And I will take _care_ of it, Sam!" I shouted back.

"Really? What have you been doing to 'take care of it'? You've been chilling out in a hospital two hours away! And you're perfectly fine! I've seen you take a bullet to the chest and walk away without needing so much as a Band-Aid!" He laughed bitterly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's the part that kills me about this whole thing. She worries about you constantly and there's _nothing_ wrong with you! She thinks that if she leaves Ohio, you're gonna be like a lost puppy wandering the streets, but you're healthy and you're sitting on a buttload of cold, hard cash. She's making herself sick over you and you only care about yourself!"

"I care about Mercedes," I spat. "I love her! And I love _you_, you dickhead. I would never have left you here alone if I knew Kurt was threatening you. He's not the only enemy I have and I need to-"

"I don't _care_, Santana," he huffed. "I really, really don't. You wouldn't care either if you were me. Think about it. If I was doing what you're doing, if I was putting Mercedes in any kind of danger, you'd shut me down in a heartbeat. You'd tell Mercedes that I was a no-good bum and you'd convince her to break up with me. Wouldn't you?"

I glared at him, refusing to admit that he was right.

"I know you would," he said. "You'd do it because you love her. I love her, too. I love her too much to let you drag her down."

"So what now? You're going to make her hate me so that she'll move away?"

"No, I was just trying to make her see that you don't need her as much as she thinks you do. That's why I told her about the money. I was going to tell her about the whole purse snatching thing, but I don't have any proof and it sounds too crazy. When I figured out that you were probably that Lima Menace person that stopped the Zippy Mart robbery, I tried to get something out of Uncle Zippy. I just wanted to show Mercedes that you can take care of yourself. She doesn't think you can, but you _can_. You can take care of yourself and we can leave Ohio and get on with our lives."

"Your lives are _here_!" I slammed my hand on the bench for emphasis, but a thought occurred to me and I paused.

Something wasn't adding up.

"Hold up, Trouty," I said. "Mercedes is mad at me, madder than she's ever been before… but even if she's mad enough to break the lease and move out of our apartment, why would she want to leave Ohio? Her parents and grandparents are here. Your parents are here. Both of her jobs are here. She has no idea that Kurt is threatening you guys. So why would she agree to leave the state with you? Leaving Ohio doesn't make any sense to someone who doesn't know what's really going on."

Sam blanched, caught off guard. "Um, what?"

"Why would Mercedes want to leave Ohio, Sam?" I asked, enunciating my words slowly.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at his shoes. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you're probably gonna find out anyway."

"What?"

He sighed. "Mercedes sold some songs to Holly Holiday for her new album."

"I know that," I muttered. "Rachel Berry told me, of all people."

"Well, did Rachel tell you that Holly loved the songs so much that she offered Mercedes a job out in LA?"

I jumped off the bench.

"Are you serious?!" It didn't matter that we were in the middle of an argument. My heart swelled with pride and my face broke out into the widest smile. Moving to LA to make music had been Mercedes dream for as long as I could remember and now it was going to come true. "Sam, that's amazing!"

_She did it. She finally fucking did it._

"She turned it down."

As quickly as it had inflated, my happiness bubble burst. I sat back down on the bench. "What? You're joking, right?"

He shook his head. "The day you turned up at the hospital, she called Holly up and said 'no thanks.' She told me that she couldn't leave you, not when you needed her this much."

"Jesus." I ran my hand over my face and squeezed my eyes shut. "Why would she- ugh."

She was throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime to stay in Lima and babysit me. My mouth felt dry and suddenly the room was way too hot.

"I need a drink," I muttered. I stood up and walked to the door. Sam didn't move. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

He hesitated briefly before following me out of the employee lounge and up the hallway. We entered the club right next to the bar. It looked like body paint was only part of the theme for the night. The bartenders and strippers were all wearing leis. The boys were wearing swim trunks like Sam's and the girls were wearing grass skirts. We walked around the bar and sat down on a pair of empty stools.

Sunshine saw me first. She squealed and practically leapt over the bar to give me a hug. Aphasia was right behind her, hooking me around the neck and almost choking me.

"You look like you need a shot of something strong," Sunshine said. She had a smile on her face, but it was tinged with a hint of sadness.

I reached blindly into my pocket, pulled out a bill, and slapped it on the counter. "Give me the strongest drink you can think of."

"First of all, that's a dollar," Aphasia laughed. "Second, you know your money's no good here… especially not a one dollar bill. That's no good anywhere."

"And third, come over here and make it yourself," Sunshine said, tugging on my arm. "It feels weird having you on the other side of the bar. Come on, we promise we won't make you work."

They both stood there smiling at me until I felt like a jerk.

"Ok, fine." I got up and walked back around the bar.

Matt was sitting on the bar as some girl outlined his abs with a paint marker. His face lit up when he saw me and he reached out and mussed my hair when I was close enough. I gave him a quick hug from behind so I didn't disrupt his customer (or screw up his tip) and he turned his head until he could kiss my cheek.

The feeling of deja-vu was overwhelming even though I'd probably never experienced that exact sequence of events. It wasn't the actions that were putting my nerves on edge. It was the atmosphere. It was the familiar roar of the crowd at the beginning of a new strip routine. It was the way Sugar Motta always made fifty ab jokes right before Mike Chang jogged onto the stage. It was the sight of body paint smeared on the bar towels and abandoned drinks sitting on the back bar, evidence that nobody ever listened to me when I told them to stop doing that shit. It was the smell of fresh lemons, limes, and mint leaves. It was the thumping bass from the music coming from the DJ booth.

It was familiar. It was home. I clung to it with everything I had in me and when I looked up towards the platform where Mercedes's stand-in was grooving to the beat, I felt it all slipping away. I realized that at any given moment, I had only the most tenuous of grasps on the things that were the most important to me.

I looked away and continued my trek behind the bar until I was standing across from Sam. As a reflex, I almost took his order but at that moment, I wasn't capable of making him a drink without spitting in it. I grabbed the soda gun and filled a plastic cup with Coke. I snatched up two shot glasses and quickly filled them with whiskey, whiskey, and whiskey.

_My good friends- Jim Beam, Johnnie Walker, and Jack Daniels._

Once the two shot glasses were filled, I picked up the first one and nodded at Sam. "Bottoms up."

Sam held out his hand. "Ew! Santana, don't-"

I downed the Three Wisemen in a smooth, well-practiced motion, flooding my system with liquor and feeling the instant regret that always follows that shot.

"Fuck," I croaked, quickly snatching up the Coke.

Sam grimaced. "Gross."

I gulped the Coke down, successfully suppressing the retching noises that my body so desperately wanted to make. I couldn't look like I was going to throw up. Maybe at any other bar in America, but not at Ladies Night. Not at _my_ bar.

I allowed myself a single cough and wiped my mouth with a napkin. "Ugh. That is so much worse than I remember."

"You can pour that other shot out because there's no way in hell I'm taking it," Sam said.

I rolled my eyes. "Well, good because it's not for you."

I refilled the plastic cup with Coke and slid the second shot glass over so that it was directly in front of me. Sam stared at me in horror.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'm sure Mercedes has told you how I get down. If we're really going to talk about serious shit tonight, then I don't want to be mentally present for it."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "What? You're really going to talk to her?"

"I'm going to tell her everything."

"And you're seriously going to get drunk right now?"

I nodded.

"She really wants to know what's up with you and you're going to scramble your brains just so you don't have to feel the same pain that she's feeling for you. Don't you think that's a little messed up?"

I picked up the second shot glass. "The only pain I want to feel is _this_ and a hangover. The rest of it? No thank you. I already lived through this story once. So yeah, I'm gonna get pissy drunk and probably cry a lot tonight, and hopefully when I wake up tomorrow to vomit, everything will be fine again."

He raised a judgmental eyebrow at me. "Have you ever heard of the term 'emotionally unavailable'?"

I rested my hand on my stomach, which was still recovering from the Three Wisemen. "I'm familiar with that concept."

"I think if you look it up in the dictionary, there's a picture of you taking a shot in there."

"Tee hee hee, you're so funny," I deadpanned. I swallowed hard and got ready to toss the second shot back.

"Seriously, Santana. Don't." Sam's hand shot out and he grabbed my wrist. "She deserves better than that. _You_ deserve better than that."

His pleading eyes stayed on my face and I avoided looking directly at him. A rogue strand of Bieber bang fell into his eyes. His roots were blond, but his hair was still a weird gray color on the ends. This was the kid who had dyed his hair black in mourning when he thought I was dead. Somewhere inside this guy was my friend Sam.

I didn't want to hate him. I didn't want to fight him. I just wanted everything to go back to normal, but I knew better than to hope for something like that.

I sighed and put the shot onto the counter. Sam patted my wrist gently.

"What a fucking mess," I muttered under my breath. Our eyes locked. We both looked tired and defeated. "I'm going to tell her everything. After that, if you guys want to pack up and move to LA, I wouldn't even blame you. I just… I want her to go to LA because she wants to go, not because she hates me or because it's not safe here."

He looked down at his hands and wiped them on his shorts. "I don't want to take her away from you."

I snorted. "I think we both know that's bullshit."

His brow crinkled under his Bieber bang. "Huh?"

"I'm in the way," I said simply. "Even if none of this other stuff was going on right now, we'd still be in the same situation because I'm in the way. You're getting married. Mercedes is going to be a star. She's ready to start her new life with you, but here I am. Always in the way."

His large mouth worked itself into a variety of shapes until he finally mumbled, "It's just that I don't think she's ever going to pick me over you. I'm afraid to ask her to because I know I'm just gonna get my feelings hurt."

"It shouldn't be a contest where one of us wins and one of us loses, Sam."

"That's easy for you to say," he said. "I don't think you've ever lost. I mean, come on. I proposed to her and she still renewed her lease with you."

My eyes widened. "She told me you were cool with that."

He shook his head. "I wasn't. I'm not. She was supposed to move in with me after your lease ended and before I knew it, she'd already signed the damn thing."

"I had no idea," I said. "She never told me that you wanted to move in together before the wedding."

He did a weird hopeless shrug with only his eyebrows. "Actually, she was supposed to move in with me way before that. We were going to find an apartment together after she graduated."

I drummed my fingertips on the countertop and stared at the bottles of whiskey in front of me. "Didn't know that, either."

"I know."

I was so confused. "I never asked her to move in with me when she came back to Ohio. I sure as hell wouldn't have asked her to come slum it with me in fucking Lima Heights. So why would she suggest it if you guys already had plans?"

He looked away. "You were going through a lot. It had been almost a year since your abuela passed and you were still struggling. She-"

"She felt bad for me," I interrupted. "She felt bad for me, so she told me she needed a place to stay and moved in with me."

"No, that's not what I meant." He tugged at his hair in frustration. "You weren't taking care of yourself-"

"I know that. I was there," I snapped. "She never told me that. She never told me any of it."

"She worries, Santana. She loves you." He frowned. "I love you, too. I never meant to hurt you."

"Yeah, you did."

He looked down at the bar. "Yeah, maybe I did. I'm sorry."

I put my hand on top of his. "Maybe you're a meddling idiot, but you love her and you were thinking about her. I'm sorry I brought this mess into her life and I love you, too. You fucking moron."

"Okay, okay, I get it." He smiled weakly. "Are we okay?"

"Not yet. We will be. I think we both need some time."

"Yeah." He looked up at the DJ booth. "Make her happy again, please? She's really, really sad."

I frowned. "I'll try my best."

_God, I hope I succeed._

* * *

><p>I flew home, carrying my shoes around my neck the whole way.<p>

Maybe if I had let David give me a ride, I would've seen the suspicious black SUV parked up the street from my building.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, I had lost my house keys during the scuffle with Kurt at the mall. I had to knock on the door and wait for Mercedes to answer it. After a full minute passed, I was afraid she wasn't going to let me in. When the door finally opened, Mercedes was on the other side wearing a head scarf and her purple velvet pajamas. Her expression was blank and accusatory at the same time.<p>

"Hi," I said. It was all I could think to say.

Mercedes stepped back and let me in without the responding. The door slammed shut behind me and she trudged across the room, picked up a book that was lying open on the coffee table, and lay down on the couch.

"We should really think about replacing that thing," I said. The couch was still broken from my "incident" with Brittany.

"Can't." She looked at me over the top of her book. "Don't have the money."

We stood there as her gaze bore a hole into me and I sputtered for something to say.

"Look, Mercedes. We need to talk- I mean I need to talk. To you. I need to tell you about… something… well, a few things-"

"What? What do you have to say, Santana?" she snapped. She tossed her book to the side and sat up. "You know, since we can only talk when _you_ wanna talk. Did I pass the test? Did I earn the truth this time?"

My mind went blank. Mercedes was always direct when she called me out, but never aggressive or mocking. That was my schtick. I didn't know how to respond.

"Mercedes-"

She held up her hand. "You know what? Forget it. I don't even wanna know what it is you're hiding from me anymore. It looks illegal and I'm not going to jail for anybody, not my mama, not my daddy, not Sam, and not you. The less I know, the better."

If Sam's anger had caught me off guard, then Mercedes's anger left me speechless. It felt hard to breathe. It felt like there was no air in the room.

I said the only thing I could think to say. "Please don't hate me."

She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. "I don't hate you."

"It kinda feels like it," I mumbled.

"Well, I don't. I don't think I could hate you even if I wanted to, so you better thank God that you're never going to know what that feels like."

"I know you're angry, but I can fix this," I said firmly. "Please, just let me-"

"You know what your problem is?" She stood up and folded her arms. "You spend so much time trying to fix things and half the time, I don't even know what's broken! I'm tired of trying to guess what's wrong, Santana! I'm tired of watching you run around in circles and wear yourself down doing everything you can think of to keep me from hating you when all you have to do, all you've _ever_ had to do was just sit still and let me love you."

"Mercedes, I promise I can explain."

"Don't fix it," she said flatly. "Don't 'explain' anything to me if nothing's gonna change because you can't keep doing this to me-" Her voice broke, but her gaze didn't waver, even as she blinked away tears. "You can't keep treating me like I don't deserve the truth until you're too beaten down to keep it from me. You came in here like you were gonna drop some bomb on me and I was just going to listen like I always do, but I can't. That's the funny thing about the truth, Santana. It's only worth something if I believe you… and I don't even know if I _can_ believe you anymore. I don't know if you remember how to tell me the truth."

It certainly wasn't the response I was expecting.

"It's like I don't even know you anymore. I look at you and I see someone I don't even recognize." She was trying so hard not to cry that she couldn't stop blinking. "That's okay, though. I taught you how to treat me. That's why you keep doing this. But this is the last time. I'm done."

"What?" My heart dropped into my stomach and everything in my body went ice cold. I walked forward until I was standing directly in front of her.

"I don't know if I have it in me to do this with you again."

"What? What does that even mean?" I grabbed her hand and she pulled it away.

"It means…" She let out a shuddery breath. "It means I can't keep letting you hurt me and I can't keep hurting myself for you. It means that you have to love me enough not to let me do that."

_She's blaming you for missing the chance of a lifetime._

I didn't even know if that was true, but suddenly, I was pissed off about it. I wasn't even supposed to _know_ about Holly Holiday, so how could it be my fault?

"Oh, so now I don't love you because I kept something from you?" I shot back. "What about all the shit you're keeping from me? I guess it's okay when you lie!"

"What are you talking about?" she scoffed.

"I'm talking about Holly Fucking Holiday and how you didn't tell me about landing your dream job!" I shouted. "You turned it down to stay here! What the fuck were you thinking?"

She stared at me in shock. "Who told you about that?"

_Does it matter? She clearly didn't want you to know!_

"Does it matter? You clearly didn't want me to know! But I forgot- it's different when _you_ hide things. You're not a filthy, rotten liar like me, right?"

Something horrible was bubbling around in my chest, something strange and hot and toxic. I coughed hard to clear the weird congestion in my lungs, but it just made things worse. The muscles in my back contracted so painfully that I gasped. Mercedes didn't notice. She was too busy yelling.

"I hid one thing from you!" She held up a single finger. "One thing! I've been honest with you from Day One, but every time you have a secret, you act like you can't trust me! Like you haven't know me since I was six years old! Do you know how crazy that makes me? To have to prove myself over and over again to you?"

"You never had to-"

"Yes. I. Do. Every. Single. Time. So don't even try to act like what I did is the same as what you _always_ do because it's not and you know it!"

"First of all, it's not just one thing! I found out a lot of shit today that you were probably just never gonna tell me and it changes things. It changes a lot of things."

"Then how do you think I feel every time you do it?!" We were screaming at each other now and I was worried that the Rosenbaums would come by to investigate soon. "It's one thing keep stuff to yourself while you work out your feelings, but that bag of money… that's a whole different kind of lying. I don't know where that money came from or how you got it, but I know that you wouldn't be hiding it if it was legit."

I narrowed my eyes. "That money is irrelevant! Whatever Sam told you is a-"

She stuck her finger in my face. "If you say 'lie,' so help me God, I will lose it. You don't have the right to call _anybody_ a liar."

I was fuming.

_1._

_Now she won't even let you explain!_

"Well, if you would just let me explain-"

"I gave you a chance to explain! I asked you what was going on and you said _'I don't have to tell you everything.'_" She used the whiniest voice possible to imitate me and I clenched my fists.

_2._

_YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL HER _ANYTHING_. SHE'S NOT YOUR MOTHER._

"I don't have to tell you _anything_!" I shouted. "You're not my mother!"

"Yeah, I know! _I_ actually care about you!" she shouted back.

It felt like she'd punched me right in the face.

I could tell that Mercedes regretted it as soon as she said it. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She gasped. I don't know what expression I had on my face. The anger that had been building inside my chest left me very suddenly and I didn't feel anything at all. It was the absence of all feeling- pure shock.

And then everything came rushing back all at once- the anger at Sam's scheming, the sadness of disappointing Mercedes over and over, the shame of never earning my mother's love, the panic at the prospect of losing my best friend forever-

The fear of being completely alone. Again.

A wave of energy hit me so roughly that it took my breath away. It surged so high and so hard that I had to turn around, I had to look away for fear of what might happen if I didn't. I couldn't assign a number to my charge level, but it was definitely more than ten.

_LET IT TAKE YOU OVER._

"Santana-"

As soon as her hand touched my shoulder, lightning lit up the night sky. The thunder that followed boomed so loudly, I felt it in my bones. The lights went out. She snatched her hand back. It was almost as if she knew that I'd caused it.

"_Don't touch me."_ My voice was distorted and twisted, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"S-santana?" she whispered.

"_You _care_ about me? You love me? Is that why you're here? Or is it just because you pity me?"_ Everything that I never wanted to say was coming out in a rush of hateful words and all I could do was stand there and let it happen. The Dungeon of Feelings was open. _"There's no possible way that you could love me as much as you say you do."_

"What are you-" Her words evaporated as I whirled around. My eyes lit up the room and she froze, staring at me the way I'd always feared she would.

_SHE'LL SURELY LEAVE YOU NOW. THEY'LL ALL LEAVE YOU._

"_Leave,"_ I growled. _"If that's what you want, then go. Take your husband and leave!"_

Somebody banged on the door.

"Mercedes?" Mrs. Rosenbaum yelled from the hallway. "Are you in there, dear? The power is out in the whole building! We thought we heard some shouting. Is everything alright?"

"We're- I'm fine! Everything's fine!" Mercedes called back, never breaking eye contact with me. She lowered her voice and whispered, "I'm right here, Santana, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

"_Well that's too bad because I don't want you here anymore." _I leaned forward, but she didn't step back. _"Get the fuck out. Leave. Now. You know you want to. You never wanted to be here with me."_

She shook her head and stared me down even though her knees where shaking. "No, that's not true."

_IT IS TRUE. YOU KNEW IT. YOU ALWAYS KNEW._

"_It is true. I knew it. I always knew. What was I, some kind of charity case? Shitty mom, shitty stepdad. I guess you were gonna fly the coop after college, but the whole dead abuela thing roped you back in, huh?"_ The thing inside me, that dark thing that sounded a lot like Wes now that I could really hear it, laughed coldly. It felt like he was rummaging around inside my head, pulling out my deepest, most private thoughts at random, twisting and distorting them to the point of absurdity, and wielding them like weapons at Mercedes. _"That's why I couldn't trust you. It's because this was _inevitable_. I knew it. Even when I was little, I knew you'd do this to me. I knew that eventually you wouldn't feel sorry enough for me to stay."_

Mrs. Rosenbaum kept talking, but Mercedes just kept staring me down like her life depended on it. She didn't know why my eyes were glowing or why my voice was distorted and she didn't ask. She knew that she was fighting something inside me and she wasn't going to back down.

"You don't believe that," she said, "and you know that I love you. You're my best friend. You're my sister. We've always been there for each other-"

"_WRONG!"_ I screamed. _"That is a lie!"_

More banging on the door. "Mercedes! What is that? Is someone in there with you?"

"It's just the TV! I'm fine!" Mercedes yelled.

"But the power's out!"

_YOU'RE ALL ALONE AGAIN. JUST LIKE BEFORE._

"_When I needed someone the most, nobody was there!"_ I sneered. _"You weren't there! Sam wasn't there! I was alone! The one time I really needed you, you couldn't even answer your goddamn phone! So don't tell me you were there for me! I was all by myself!"_

It was Mercedes turn to look stricken as she realized exactly what I was talking about. When I realized what Wes had drug up from the depths of the Dungeon, I felt dread wash through me.

Mercedes had apologized for that. I had forgiven her for that. We didn't talk about that.

And yet here it was again because apparently, I hadn't let it go.

My body didn't pause. It just kept going full-tilt, screaming and raging and building, building, building until I felt like I was going to explode. _"I don't fucking need you! Leave! Just go! Go! Go away and leave me alone!"_

Her face fell and Mrs. Rosenbaum yelled something, but all I heard was the crack and boom of thunder and lightning as the energy in me surged again and I fell to the ground in a heap.

* * *

><p><em>Oh god. Oh my god. I don't know where you are, but- fuck. Mercedes. Please pick up.<em>

"I think she moved! Shit! Whatever you're doing, it's working!"

"What's working? Can somebody tell me what's happening? We can't see!"

"Santana moved. Her face twitched a little. Ooo! Her finger moved!"

"I need to clean her up. All this blood- oh god."

"Sam, can you move the phone so that we can see better?"

"Will everyone _please_ stop talking?! You're breaking my concentration!"

_Please pick up. I can't- oh my god, I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't do this._

"The rain is letting up a little. Is that a good sign?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? You mean you don't know?"

"'Incredible Hulk Shit' isn't an exact science. I'm a medical doctor, not a psychologist."

"All of you! Shut up! I can't think!"

"Sorry."

_She- she's gone. Abuela… she died. I don't know what to do. Please pick up. I need you. Please._

"Santana, can you hear me?"

_I don't know what to do._

"Santana?"

_I'm all alone._

"Santana?"

I opened my eyes and a chill ran from my head to my toes. I swallowed thickly. My mouth was full of blood.

"Praise Jesus," Mercedes whispered. I couldn't see where she was, but I knew she was close by.

I was still charged up beyond the point of no return. My eyes were shining like spotlights. Brittany's face was the only thing in my field of vision. The sides of my head felt warm and I realized that she was holding my head in her lap. She didn't look away from my eyes. She focused directly on them. The numbing fuzz of mind control was sweeping through my brain and right below that, I felt the heavy curtain of unconsciousness threatening to fall again.

She was keeping me awake.

"Are you in there, San?" she whispered.

"_Where the fuck else would I be?" _I growled in response. I almost jumped at the sound of my own voice. It wasn't me controlling my mouth and it didn't even feel like Wes. My eyes weren't glowing blue. It was the something else, something wrong.

Brittany stroked my cheeks gently, using the motion that usually calmed me down.

"_Don't fucking touch me!"_ I spat.

"Jesus Christ," Sam whispered from somewhere in the room. "This is like The Exorcist."

Mercedes shushed him.

"I know you're in there, but… what else is in there, sweetie?" Brittany asked. She moved a hand from my face and put it over my heart. "There's something here. It's dark. It's making you sleep and it's keeping you charged up."

"Can you 'see' anything, Brittany? With your ability?" Figgins's voice. He wasn't in the room, though. It sounded like he was on speakerphone.

Brittany hesitated. "Yeah, it's like… I don't know. Like a clot or something? It's dark purple. Like a big bruise on her chest right over her heart. A shadow." She turned my head to the side. "It's in her brain, too. I think it's blocking her from coming out of this."

"Tina, do you think it might have something to do with the spores?" Puck asked. Apparently, McKinley was having their own little pow-wow from the warehouse. "Do you think Wes is doing this?"

"Yes? No? Maybe? I'm completely out of my element here," Tina said in exasperation. "I'm no psychic."

"I did it. It's my fault." Mercedes leaned forward so that she was in my field of view, peering down at me. Her expression was grave as she wiped my mouth and nose with a blood-stained washcloth. "I think I hurt her. I hurt her really bad."

"It wasn't you, Mercedes," Brittany said. "Something strong is holding her."

"It's gotta be Wes," Puck said. "He must have found out she was back and pounced."

"She's been back for five minutes and someone's already doing _this_ to her?" Sam asked.

"They were probably lying in wait," he pointed out. "Ben and David are on their way over to scout out the area. Himanshu's got some robots in the air, too. If they find him lurking around, they'll punch him in the dick and Santana will be back to normal."

"If it's Wes and he's lurking around, then why didn't he get me, too?" Brittany asked. "He knows I have spores in my brain."

Mercedes looked over in Sam's direction. I didn't know how much had been explained to them while I was out, but it wasn't enough.

There was silence on the line before Puck spoke again. "Beats me. Motives aren't my strong suit."

"If he's not trying to control me and he's not making Santana destroy anything, then he's probably not here," Brittany concluded.

"Does that really matter?"

"Yeah, it does. If he's not here, then he's not doing this. He probably started it, but I think it's all Santana now."

"…so there's nobody to punch in the dick," Sam said, catching on.

"Exactly."

"Yeesh. I was kinda banking on the dick-punch solution," Puck muttered.

"We're gonna have to fix this ourselves." Brittany grabbed one of Mercedes hands and kept the other over my heart. "Come on. I need help making this clot disappear."

"How?" Mercedes asked, eyes pleading.

"I don't know exactly. I can heal people, but I've only healed physical stuff. This thing inside her looks physical, but it feels psychic. I can try to heal it, but I don't know if I can. Based on what you told me, I think it's something deep that maybe only you can fix."

"I… I don't know what she needs anymore," Mercedes whispered sullenly.

"Mercedes," Brittany said sternly, "she's not herself. Whatever she said- it wasn't her. She loves you and she needs you to bring her back, okay? Bring her back to us."

Mercedes sniffled and nodded. "Okay. What should I do?"

"Try to talk to her. Try to get around it."

"I'll try." She looked down at me, searching my face as if it would tell her where and how to begin. "Oh! Wait!"

She jumped up from the ground and disappeared, returning thirty seconds later with Mr. Ziggles. She pressed his face against mine and moved it back and forth like he was nuzzling me. The feeling of his soft fur had always calmed me. I felt my muscles relax slightly, but not much.

"Santana," she started, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, do you hear me? I am not your mother. I am not gonna 'take my husband and leave.'"

"_You will,"_ the thing inside me sneered at her. _"You'll leave. Everybody leaves."_

"No, I'll always be here," she promised, putting her hand over my heart. "Even if I live on the other side of the country, the world, the universe, you are always in my heart. You know that."

My hands shook a little. Brittany was still staring down at me. Her eyes were glowing faintly, not the way that mine did, but the light was still there. I felt the numbing sensation pushing against my brain and tugging at my heart. I squirmed at the discomfort.

I glared at her. _"Stop, Brittany. It's not gonna work."_

Brittany glared right back at me. "Keep talking, Mercedes."

Mercedes focused completely on me. "Even when we were little, you always thought I was going to forget about you at recess or let you sit by yourself at lunch. I never did. You always thought I would, but I never did."

"_Until now. You're not always there when it counts. When it really matters."_

Brittany let go of Mercedes' hand and put her hands on the sides of my face again. She was straining against the thing in my body. "Come on," she whispered hoarsely. "Move. _Move._"

"You're right. I wasn't there when Abuela died." Mercedes said. She looked up briefly at Brittany and then looked away and I could see the shame written on her face. "I wasn't there when you needed me the most and I've regretted it for over two years now."

Brittany held my head tighter. "Come on, you stupid clot."

She squeezed hard and I gasped as something inside me shifted. I let out a low, almost inhuman growl. Brittany growled back.

"_LET GO!"_ I roared.

"Never," she said through clenched teeth. "Mercedes, keep going!"

"I'm so _sorry_," Mercedes said and her voice finally broke. Tears sprung to her eyes and she held onto me for dear life. "If I could go back in time, I would be there with you, but I can't change what happened. I can only apologize and hope that it's enough. I love you. I love you more than you know."

As she said it, Brittany gave one last psychic, Herculean push. The noise in my head was deafening. It sounded like someone was ripping a Sequoia out of the ground. Brittany grunted and my back twisted at a horrifying angle as my eyes rolled back into my head. My mouth opened and my lungs emptied themselves forcefully. My arms and legs twitched and then every muscle in my body relaxed. The energy coursing through me immediately ceased, leaving me an empty, cold, heaving heap in Brittany's lap. Shaking, I curled up into the fetal position.

"The rain stopped," Sam whispered. Since I was now lying on my side, I could see him. He was holding my phone up so that the McKinley crew could see us via FaceTime.

"Did it work?" Mercedes asked.

I opened my eyes. They weren't shining. Brittany was staring down at me anxiously, waiting for me to do something.

"San?"

"I'm here," I croaked, afraid to move my shaky limbs. "I'm here. I'm okay."

"Oh my god," she whispered. She leaned over and gave me a long kiss on the forehead. "Jesus Christ."

Mercedes wiped her eyes frantically, whispering quiet "thank you's" to God.

"Is everything okay over there?" Tina asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Brittany answered. "I can't see the bruise anym-"

Brittany's phone started screaming from inside her pocket. "I SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR YOUUUUUU!"

She pulled her phone out. "Crap, Quinn's awake. She's probably wondering where I am. Everyone be quiet for a second." She pressed the answer button. "Hey, Quinn, what's up?"

I felt her body go rigid under my head.

"Get away from her!" Brittany hissed. "If you touch her, I swear to God!"

As drained as I was, I forced myself to sit up and face her. "What's wrong?"

She pulled the phone away from her face and looked at the display. Call Ended.

Brittany jumped up from the floor. "He's at my house!" she shouted. "He's in Quinn's room!"

"Who?" I asked.

"Wes!" She was shaking frantically. "I have to go! I have to get him away from her!"

"Brittany, no! You can't go over there by yourself!" Tina said. "He can control your mind. Let David and Ben handle it. I'm sending them a message to change their course immediately."

"I have to be there!" she screamed at the phone. "He was probably waiting for me to leave her alone and then- oh god, what if I leave and he comes back _here_?"

She looked at me, terrified at the prospect of leaving me without any super-powered people to protect me. I looked at her, equally terrified at the prospect of letting her leave without any super-powered people to protect her.

"Don't go," I pleaded.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, not know what to do.

"They're gonna be there soon," I assured her. "Let them make sure the coast is clear."

She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around me. "Okay," she said. "Okay, not yet."

Brittany's phone rang again with a different ringtone and she jumped. She pulled out her phone and stared at it. "I don't know this number."

"It should be Ben and David," Tina said.

She answered it without letting go of me. After a brief pause, she rattled off her address, said a few thank you's, and hung up.

"They're on their way," she said.

"What do we do now?" Sam asked.

"I guess… I guess we wait."

* * *

><p>Himanshu's robots landed on our fire escape soon after. Those things are extremely useful. One of them sat on the floor and let us use it's face to Skype with McKinley while the other one made hot tea for the four freaked out people in the apartment.<p>

I took a sip of my tea and let out a deep breath.

"It's Tension Tamer tea," the robot whispered in its mechanical voice. "Enjoy!"

We were all sitting in the dark. I was on the floor in front of the couch and Brittany was leaning against my shoulder, holding my hand. Sam was sprawled out on the ground from what I could see. The coffee table was between us. I didn't know if he was even awake. The rain outside had stopped, but thunder and lightning were still rolling across the sky. I wasn't causing it to happen anymore, but I didn't really know if I could make it go away.

Brittany was incredibly tense. She checked her phone every five seconds for some sign that Ben and David had arrived at her apartment. I felt bad for making her stay with me, but sending her into Wes's trap would help no one, not even Quinn.

I kissed her temple. "Sip your tea. It will help."

She shook her head and squeezed my hand a little tighter.

Mercedes came back in from the hallway where she had been speaking with the Rosenbaums. She plopped down on the floor next to me and took a sip of my tea. "They probably think I'm a psycho now."

I stole my tea back. "You mean they _know_ you're a psycho now."

She smiled weakly and looked down at her hands. Things were weird. Everything felt off. We were not okay.

"They should be there by now, right?" Brittany asked. "Do you think something happened to them? Maybe they got ambushed by Kurt or something. Maybe-"

"I'm talking to them right now," Puck said from inside the robot's face. "They're gonna land on your roof in about twenty seconds."

Brittany proceeded to hold her breath for twenty seconds.

"Okay, they're on the roof and heading down the stairwell."

She nodded, relived. "Okay. Good. That's good."

When I realized she was holding her breath again, I put my hand on her ribs and leaned against her. "Breathe, B."

Brittany took a deep breath and buried her face in my shoulder. "I just need for her to be okay. She's so weak right now, San. Please, please, please let her be okay."

Mercedes got up from her seat on the floor and moved to the other side of us. She grabbed Brittany's free hand and held it in both of hers.

"Heavenly Father," she said quietly, "we ask You today to protect Quinn. We ask You to hold her safely in Your loving arms, Father, and we pray that no harm comes to her. In Jesus's name we pray, amen."

"Amen," Brittany echoed, not moving her face from my shirt. Mercedes started to sing softly in the quiet living room. It was hymn and I didn't know it. I didn't think Brittany knew it either, but a few bars later, she started humming along with the tune. When the song ended, Brittany looked up and smiled at Mercedes. "You remembered. Thank you."

Mercedes nodded. "Anytime."

We sat there for minute after agonizing minute until finally, Puck said, "all clear. Looks like Wes must've taken off. Quinn is sleeping like a baby. Vitals look good."

Brittany deflated instantly, letting go of our hands to rub at her face. She was breathing like she just ran a marathon. Mercedes kissed her on the cheek and patted her shoulder before getting up and returning to her position next to me on the floor.

"David and Ben wanna hang out for a bit if you don't mind. We've got Transformers checking the nearby streets and alleys, but they want to do a sweep of the building. Someone will be with Quinn at all times. They should be done in about an hour."

Brittany nodded. "Okay. Tell them to be careful."

"Can do."

Puck was being really helpful and I knew it was probably killing him to be stuck in the warehouse. I decided to swallow my pride and show some gratitude.

"Thanks a lot, Puck," I said. "We really appreciate your help."

His mouth flattened into a thin line. "Didn't do it for you."

The Skype transmission ended and the room was silent again.

"Jeez, what was that about?" Sam asked.

I waved a hand dismissively in the robot's direction. "Puck's an asshole, that's what it's about. He's still mad about something I said."

"Really? He seemed pretty worried about you when you were… you know." He gestured to the area on the floor where I had been lying earlier.

"Well, when he makes the long journey down from Mount Shithead, we can have a heart-to-heart."

"I think you should cut him some slack," Brittany said.

"Oh, I'll cut him alright."

"You know he already felt bad about the accident before you guys argued."

"Good! They all should feel bad about it!"

"San, come on."

The corner of Mercedes's mouth lifted slightly and I knew she was laughing at "San." There was a very short list of names that people were allowed to call me without running the risk of being fatally wounded. That list consisted of my first name, my last name, "Santanita" because my abuela insisted on it, "Santana-Banana" because of April Rhodes, and "bitch" because I hadn't been successful in my efforts to get people to stop calling me that. No "Tana." No "Ana." No "Satan" (even though people fought hard to make that one stick). So the fact that I'd allowed Brittany to drop half of my name without complaint was highly amusing to Mercedes.

When I didn't respond, Brittany gently poked me in the ribs. "Please don't start anything with them. They're saving our butts right now. We don't have anybody else on our side and we've got a lot of people against us. So even if they're not the best people in the world, they're the only people we've got."

When I still didn't say anything, she gave me a peck on the cheek. "San. Be good."

"I _am_," I whined.

Mercedes smirk grew wider until she caught my eye. She dropped the grin immediately. While Brittany was practically draped over me, there was a good deal of space between Mercedes and me. Our hands were awkwardly lying next to each other, but not touching. It had never been like this before. It made me sad.

Brittany shifted her body weight and looked across us, noticing the space. The robot brought Mercedes her own mug of tea and she sipped from it, looking awkward and uncomfortable.

"Well, while we're all just sitting here, maybe we should clear the air," Brittany said, disturbing the quiet.

She didn't really have any air to clear, so we all knew who she meant by "we."

Mercedes and I looked at each other and I've never felt more uncomfortable with her in my life. Neither of us spoke. Brittany nudged me in the ribs.

"I don't want to make you mad again," I said cautiously. "You said you didn't want to hear what I had to say and if you still don't, I'll respect that."

She bit her lip and folder her hands in her lap. "Go ahead."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the note that had come with the last bag of money. Mercedes watched me carefully. Brittany squeezed my hand again and a little of the tension left my body. It gave me the push I needed to pass the note to Mercedes and let her read it. When she was done, she looked up at me with a puzzled expression. I took the note from her and handed it to Brittany.

"This is not the way I planned to tell you about all of this," I sighed. "I'm not sure how much everyone told you while I was unconscious about… well, all of this weird shit that just went down."

"I called Brittany when you passed out and she said that something happened to you while you were missing and that's why you..." She couldn't finish her sentence. Sam dragged himself closer to us until he was lying underneath the coffee table. He reached out his hand and Mercedes stuck out her leg so he could grab her ankle. It was a weirdly intimate gesture- not so much the ankle grab, but the fact that he knew that it was all she needed. It made me feel even worse. I had blocked Mercedes out so much "for her own good" that I couldn't even sense her anymore in the way that I used to.

I cleared my throat, trying not to get emotional. "Something did happen. I fell into this weird chemical that's supposed to heal people, but it also kinda… it gives them super powers."

"That's what that was? Your super powers?" She spoke quietly as if the volume of her voice would set me off again.

I nodded. "Yeah. I have other ones, too."

"Like what?"

"Like super speed and lasers that come out of my hands and being a colossal jerk. I'm sorry, Mercedes. I should have just told you."

She ignored my apology. "So you're a super hero, then?"

"Not really," I admitted. "I've tried to do some good things, but I always mess them up."

I could tell that Brittany wanted to argue, but she left it alone.

"And Brittany, you have super powers, too?" Mercedes asked. "That's how you helped Santana just now?"

"I've only had them since we disappeared from the mall. I got hurt. That chemical that gave Santana powers? It saved my life."

Mercedes pointed to the note. "And the money?"

"It's a separate thing, but um, kinda related." I shrunk down a little because now everyone was looking at me. Brittany didn't know about the money, either. "I don't know who's sending it. They've been giving it to Zippy to give to me. Every time I do something epically stupid and upset the police department, they send me money."

"How much money?" Brittany asked.

"Um," I cleared my throat. "I got seven hundred and fifty thousand so far."

"Seven hun- oh my god."

Three pairs of eyes stared at me like my head had just caught fire.

"You have to give it back," Mercedes said.

I sat up straight. "What?! No way!"

"There's no way that money is clean. It could be drug money!"

"Or it could be perfectly fine! There's no way for me to know, so I might as well just keep it."

"I think she's right, San," Brittany said. Mercedes smirked at the nickname again, but Brittany didn't notice. "There's gotta be something wrong with it."

"I can't give this money back," I said. "I need it. I owe a lot of money and this is my only way out."

Mercedes locked eyes with me and I could tell that the question was sitting on the tip of her tongue. Unfortunately, years of lies and secrets had trained her not to trust me.

"Ask me," I pleaded. "I won't lie. Just ask me."

She shook her head. "Fine. Who do you owe money to?"

"My stepfather."

Her head snapped up. It wasn't what she was expecting at all.

I forced out a laugh. "You know Abuela didn't believe in insurance."

Mercedes's eyes widened. "Santana. Tell me you didn't."

"What else was I going to do?" I asked.

"What did you do?" Brittany asked gently. She seemed hesitant, as if she didn't want to intrude, but I wanted her to know. I was tired of having secrets. So I just started talking and hoped I would end up in the right place.

"My abuela got sick." My throat threatened to close up on me.

_Haven't you had enough for today, you masochist?_

I shook my head. I was going to say it. I was going to tell the truth.

"My Ladies Night check wasn't making a dent in her medical bills at all. So I asked my stepfather for money."

"Santana, why?" Mercedes interrupted, sounding pained. "You know that man is evil! Why didn't you-"

"She was _dying_, Mercedes. What was I supposed to do? I wanted her to have whatever she needed. I wanted the doctors to freaking _save_ her. After she… I needed money for the funeral. My mom would've done something crappy and cheap. I wanted it to be nice. Then, my stupid junker car kept breaking down and it needed a lot of work. I had to move out of Abuela's house and into an apartment and start paying rent. I asked him for more money just so I'd have some place to stay. His late fees and interest are insane. Before I knew it, I was up to my eyes in debt with no way out."

"You should've told me," she said. "I would've gotten money from my parents or my grandparents or, I don't know, anybody else in the world but him!"

"I couldn't ask you or anybody else I know for that much money. My stepfather is richer than God. It's not hurting him to give away that much cash. So yeah, I sold my soul to the devil, but honestly, I don't even regret it." My voice broke and I shoved down everything that wanted to come crashing out of me. "I would've given anything. I would go back in time and do it again and again and again every time- even if I knew it wasn't going to help. I had to try."

She closed the space between us, wrapping her arms around me and leaning her head against mine. I could feel her tears hit my shirt and neck.

"So stubborn and bullheaded and crazy," she muttered into my hair. "Just like her. I can't believe you didn't even tell me."

I closed my eyes. "I stopped telling you stuff because I was distracting you. You were staying up all night on the phone, listening to me try to figure out how to cure terminal illnesses and you started missing your morning classes."

"Who cares about my stupid morning classes? I wanted to know what was going on back here."

"I cared about your stupid morning classes! Hardly anybody from the Heights makes it to college in the first place! Out of those kids, eighty percent of them will end up right back here because they ran out of money or they fucked it up. I didn't want you to fuck it up. I wanted you to get out of here. I still want you to get out of here. You're better than this dump."

She shook her head. "I wanted to know, Santana. I didn't want you to go through all of that alone. I would've been here if I could have. I would've been right by your side if you told me how bad things had gotten-"

"Mercedes, I was in denial about so many things… my head was screwed up and I wasn't making good decisions." I wiped my eyes. "In my head, everything made sense: 'borrow money from your stepdad because he's filthy rich,' 'don't tell Mercedes about how it's going because she'll flunk out of school,' and-" my mouth screwed up into a bitter scowl, "and 'don't write the will yet because she's not going to die.'"

Reflecting on my stupidity during that awful, awful time made me feel embarrassed and ashamed, but when I felt Brittany's arms wrap around me from behind, the feelings abated. She rested her head on my shoulder again and for a second, I allowed myself to absorb the comfort that she and Mercedes were wrapping me in.

I cleared my throat, reminding myself that I had a point to make. "The money that I got from this mystery donor is going to my stepdad. I don't care where the money came from, but this is probably the only chance I have to break his hold on me. I'll throw this free money at him and he'll be out of my life forever."

"There's no such thing as free money," Sam piped up from under the coffee table. "Whoever gave you this money is trying to buy you. Are you sure you want to trade your stepfather for someone who might be even worse?"

It was a good point, one that I hadn't really given much thought to.

I shrugged. "What could be worse than my stepfather? Some rich, rude nutjob? I'm being stalked by angry, super-powered homosexuals right now. I'm pretty sure I can take on Scrooge McDuck or whoever the hell is sending me this money."

"And you're sure you have no idea who it could be?" Brittany asked.

"It's definitely not somebody I know. My stepdad is the only rich person I know and there's no way he'd just give away money unless he had the opportunity to gloat and rub it in. Besides, I don't think he has an axe to grind with the police. That's why I'm getting paid in the first place. Every time I make the cops look stupid, I get money for it."

"Why would you want to make the cops look stupid?" Sam asked.

"The cops are not good people, Sam." Brittany scowled and Sam shrank into the carpet. "They are the worst people you could imagine."

"Worse than this purple suit guy?" Mercedes asked. "If the cops are bad, how are we supposed to get out of this mess?"

Brittany shrugged. "We haven't figured that out yet."

"We've made a lot of enemies since I've been back. I didn't want to tell you what was happening, but I should have because you're not safe. None of us are safe anymore. These people are dangerous."

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, if somebody wants to get to you, they gotta go through me first."

"I'm not gonna let you-"

"You don't have to let me and you can't stop me," she said. "We've always protected each other. Nothing's gonna change that. Ride or die."

I frowned. "The 'die' part is pretty literal in this case."

"Nobody's dying, okay?" Sam tightened his hold on Mercedes's ankle and looked at her desperately. "Babe, don't talk like that."

"Santana and I are going to do the best we can to protect you guys and Quinn and Rachel, but we can only be in so many places at once," Brittany said. "That's why we need you guys to be on your guard. If you see anything weird, let us know right away. Keep an eye on your families because we don't know if they're targets, too. And whatever you do, stay away from the police."

Mercedes barked out a laugh. "Girl, we're from Lima Heights. 'Stay Away From the Police' was the theme of our senior prom."

* * *

><p>Exactly an hour after he had last spoken to us, Puck called us back.<p>

"Alright, ladies and Sam," he announced, "Brittany's condo and the surrounding area is completely clear."

"Great!" Brittany said. She was still sitting on the floor, wrapped around me.

She didn't move.

"Are you going to be okay? I don't… I'm afraid to leave you," she whispered.

"I'll be alright, B," I assured her. "It's probably better if you go home. If Wes comes back here, he could turn both of us crazy and there would be no one here to help."

"I don't want to leave you alone," she said.

"We'll protect her," Sam said, rising to his feet.

"Sam, you're not going to be able to stop her if Wes gets inside her brain."

"We'll do our best," Mercedes said. "But what about you? What if this guy comes and gets inside your brain at your place?"

Puck hummed in thought. "What if we bring Ben over here and have David stay at Brittany's? That way, everybody has somebody 'super' around in case something goes down."

Brittany nodded nervously. "Okay. Okay, that could work."

"Excellent. We've got a Transformer downstairs waiting to take you home. It's a bright yellow Camaro. Looks like Bumblebee, you can't miss him."

I carefully untangled myself from Brittany and stood. "Do you want me to walk you down?"

"No, you stay up here. I'll be fine." She reached out a hand to Mercedes and pulled her up off the ground. They hugged each other tightly. "Stay safe and call me if you need anything. Anything at all."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Mercedes said.

Sam rolled out from under the coffee table and got to his feet. "Stay safe, Brittany. Call _us_ if you need anything."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," she echoed as she hugged him.

I walked her to the front door, but didn't open it. We both just stood there looking at each other. Neither of us wanted her to leave. She put her hand on my cheek.

"Please stay safe, San," she whispered. "If you get hurt… I don't know what I'll do."

I already knew what it was like to watch Brittany get hurt. She had seen me get hurt as Rumplestiltskin, but I knew that it wasn't the same. I knew by the way that she was acting that she was seeing things a little differently. She was being more cautious. The danger was becoming more real.

"I'll stay safe if you stay safe," I promised. Her eyes were so blue and clear and honest and open that I had to look away because I thought I was seeing something in her gaze that might not be there. Instead, I let my eyes drop to her lips. "Can I have a kiss goodbye?"

Just like at the hospital, she didn't look around or hesitate. She stepped forward, cupped my face, and kissed me. I felt of flicker of energy pass through me, but my body's reaction was half-hearted at best. It was exhausted. I slowly guided Brittany out of the kiss until we were just standing there with our lips touching. I opened my eyes. Brittany blinked, looking at me as if she'd just woken up.

"Okay, I'm really leaving now," she said. She looked back at Mercedes and Sam, but instead of apologizing for the kiss, she just smiled at them. "I'll see you guys later."

Then she left. I could hear her running down the hall.

I was listening to see if she'd take the elevator or the stairs when Puck's voice startled me. "You know what this means, right? I mean, no one is saying it, but it's kind of implied."

"What?" I asked.

"If Wes is actively fucking with you guys, then you aren't gonna get a moment's rest while he's still in the picture. On top of that, I can't set foot outside to help with the Kurt problem. What no one is saying is that Kurt's shenanigans are no longer our top priority. We've got a new objective."

I looked at the floor, mostly because I didn't want to see Mercedes and Sam's faces when Puck said what I knew he was going to say next.

"Wes Porter needs to die. Immediately."

* * *

><p>"I know you said you weren't hungry, but I made you a plate anyway. Throw it in the microwave if you get hungry. Do you even use microwaves? Or do you just like, cook the food in your mouth?"<p>

Ben laughed. "Yes, I use microwaves and no, my mouth is not a toaster over. Thanks for doing that. You didn't have to."

I shrugged. "It's just some leftover spaghetti. No big deal. Just a warning- Sam uses whole wheat pasta and a bunch of other healthy shit that I don't want to talk about. It's edible, but it's a little disappointing."

Ben was sitting on the couch in some shorts and a t-shirt that he borrowed from Sam, folding his own clothes neatly and setting them off to the side. Mercedes and Sam were quietly whispering about us in the kitchen while simultaneously trying to eavesdrop. I rolled my eyes at them and sat down on the couch next to Ben.

"You don't have to sleep on this busted-up couch," I said, fluffing one of the ugly couch pillows. "You can take my bed and I can sleep out here. I think we might have an air mattress somewhere, too."

Ben genuinely smiled at me. "Trust me, I've slept on much worse things in much worse places. It's not a problem."

Surprisingly, Ben was an easy-going house guest. He was extremely polite to Mercedes and Sam, and I got the feeling that he was purposely trying to be as low maintenance as possible. I was used to being lectured and instructed by my mentor, but he was just going with the flow and it was freaking me out.

If the vibe in the apartment had been weird after my little episode, it had gotten even weirder when Ben showed up. The whole ordeal was becoming more and more real to Mercedes and Sam. Names were being put with faces. People and robots were showing up at the house and crashing for the night. It was a lot to handle. Watching my worlds collide after I'd gone to great lengths to keep them separate was quite the mindfuck. Unfortunately for me, the super-powered cat was out of its proverbial bag and it wasn't going back in. The crazy train had officially gone off the rails. We had passed the point of no return and now Mercedes and Sam "knew" and were "in on it."

"Are you gonna have some spaghetti?" Mercedes asked, walking out of the kitchen and approaching the couch.

"No, it's okay. I'm really not all that hungry," Ben said for the billionth time.

"Are you sure, Mr. Ranger?" Sam asked. "I made it myself. It's delicious _and_ nutritious."

Sam had been referring to Ben as "Mr. Ranger" since he got there and he would actually blush every time Ben spoke to him. I was embarrassed for all of us. He was not allowed to meet anyone else.

Ben smiled politely. "Once again, I'm not a Power Ranger. I'm normal person with special abilities, just like Santana. "

"Whatever you say, sir." Sam winked at him and I could physically feel Ben judging all of us.

"You're a lot nicer than Santana said you were," Mercedes said, probably trying to distract everyone from her fiancé's cringe-worthy behavior. "She made it sound like you were a real jerk."

"I have my moments." Ben bent down and started to remove his socks. "I figure that at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter how nice I am. I kill people for money. It kind of cancels everything else out."

Sam, who was about to embarrass himself again, froze and his mouth snapped shut. Mercedes gawked at the stranger on my couch and then looked at me like I was crazy for bringing him here.

"That was probably not the best way to reveal that information," I said.

"We're trying this new 'truth up front' thing," Ben explained. "I figured your people should know what they're dealing with. We didn't do it with you, but we should have."

In all honesty, _I_ didn't even know what I was dealing with. I didn't ask about McKinley's exploits and they didn't tell. Ignorance was bliss, but I wasn't ignorant, not completely. I knew enough to be wary.

I had always pegged Kurt as a "wildcard" because I couldn't predict his next move, but even though I didn't know what Kurt's plan was, I had no doubt that he had one somewhere in his crazy head. The true wildcards were the people I had gotten closest to, the ones with the penchant for inflicting indiscriminate chaos purely for monetary gain, the people that I trusted enough to sleep on my couch and protect me and my loved ones from those who would harm us.

Unfortunately, when powerful people want you dead, you don't have the luxury of acting morally superior and walking away from the only people who have your back.

* * *

><p>About an hour after Mr. Ziggles and I called it a night, Mercedes appeared in my doorway. I couldn't sleep, so I was up watching TV when she came in.<p>

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I thought you went to bed."

"No. Sam and I were up talking about… everything."

She stood there, looking at the ground. After a few minutes of awkward silence, I threw the covers back.

"Cuddles?" I offered.

She looked relieved, as if she'd expected me to send her away. She crawled into bed and snuggled up next to me in our usual tangle of limbs.

"I really fucked everything up," I said once she was settled.

"No you didn't."

"When you need an invitation for cuddles, then yeah, I fucked everything up."

"I didn't wanna just assume-"

I stared her down with the most serious expression. "You never have to ask for cuddles. There will always be cuddles for you."

She broke my gaze and looked at everything except my face. "After what I said about your mom, I don't even deserve cuddles."

"That really hurt my feelings," I said softly.

"I know. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did."

"…yes I did. She doesn't deserve you."

"I don't want to talk about her," I grumbled. "You were mad. I get that. Are you still… I mean, you were so mad before… I was afraid you'd never talk to me again."

"I was at the end of my rope, I guess. I didn't know what else to do or say. I felt like I was losing you to the Dark Side or something. Now that I know a little bit about what you've been doing, I'm not as mad as I was."

"Are you totally freaked out?" I asked.

"A little. Your eyes and your voice… I thought I broke you or something," she admitted, her expression pained. "I don't like the idea of people controlling your mind and I'm scared because people are after us, but… I'm just glad that I know now."

"But I didn't tell you. You found out because I lost my shit and everybody had to come rescue me," I protested. "I lied to you. Don't let me get away with it."

"Santana-"

"No, Mercedes," I said firmly. "Don't let me off the hook. You always let me off the hook."

She looked surprised that I'd say something like that.

"I remember what you said to Brittany at the hospital," I went on. "I lie to you all the time. It's not right. You don't deserve that. You deserve to be trusted. You're right- I've made you prove that you're trustworthy so many times. Meanwhile, I've been lying through my teeth about so many things, I can't even keep track. You deserve better than what I give you because you're not my mom and you didn't leave me. You _never_ leave me and you never give up on me, even when I give up on myself. So don't go easy on me, okay? Tell me that I suck and that I'm the worst friend ever. Just don't let me keep hurting you."

"I-I-"

I was confused. "You put your foot down today. You were mad as hell and you weren't going to take it anymore. What happened to that?"

"I thought you were selling drugs," she said sheepishly. "You were acting so weird and not sleeping and the money- of course I was mad."

My eyes bulged out of my head and I propped myself up on my elbow. "Drugs? What the hell, Mercedes? You really think I'd do something like that?"

She covered her face. "I know, I know, but I didn't know what else to think! People around here are either selling drugs or robbing people and I know how you feel about stealing."

"You also know how I feel about drugs!"

"Excuse me if 'getting paid for wrecking the city with her super powers' wasn't my first choice!" She glared at me. "Yes, I thought you were selling drugs. When Sam showed me that money, I thought 'maybe Santana keeps getting kidnapped because she's in trouble with drug dealers or the Knightmares or something' and you know what? That made me really, really mad at you. You'd be mad too if you were worrying about someone and you found out that they were doing something as stupid as running with these dope boys."

I could see the hurt and pain and worry etched on her face.

"So now that I know what happened, what? You want me to yell at you because somebody kidnapped you and gave you superpowers? You want me to punish you for having enemies and stalkers? Should I cuss you out for saving Sam? Is that gonna make you feel better? Is that gonna make us even?"

"You know that's not what I'm saying. Hold me accountable for lying," I said. "Put your foot down."

She watched me for a second and then spoke so quietly, I had to strain to hear her. "Okay. I'm not gonna enable you anymore. You're my best friend. I love you. Stop doubting that. Don't lie to me and don't tell me the truth just because I'll get angry if you lie. Tell me the truth because you believe that you deserve my trust."

_One day, you're going to have to be the person you say you are, Santanita._

"I'm never gonna lie to you again," I whispered. She didn't look convinced and that probably hurt more than anything. "Seriously. You were ready to end our friendship today because of how shitty I've been to you and I don't ever want to push you the edge like that again. I don't want to be a liar. I don't want to be 'emotionally unavailable' or manipulative or whatever else I've been. I've been a shitty friend for a really long time. You… you didn't even get a chance to say goodbye because I didn't tell you how bad she was doing."

The subject change caught her off guard. She took a deep breath and settled back against the pillow so that she could stare up at the ceiling.

"The last thing I wanted was for you to be alone when she died," Mercedes whispered. I could hear the threat of tears in her voice. "I would've never gone on that stupid cruise if I knew she wasn't doing well. I would've come home. You know that, right? You know I wanted to be there with you when it happened?"

I nodded. "I know. It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I should have told you that she was getting worse. You deserved a chance to say goodbye and I took that from you. She was your abuela, too."

Mercedes shook her head. "I should've come home to see her more."

"You had school. That was your job. And you were doing great."

"I should've made sure you were doing okay and asked about the will and the money-"

I scowled. "Hey, stop that. I'm not gonna let you blame yourself. That was all me."

"I should've figured out that something was wrong. I was so caught up in school and Sam-" She lost her hold, bursting into tears. "I barely made it back in time for the funeral. You had to make the arrangements by yourself and-"

I hugged her tightly. "Shut your crazy mouth, silly. You didn't know. You didn't have your phone. It's not your fault. Okay? You hear me?"

She nodded and scrubbed her face with her hands, slowly letting her breath even out.

"Not your fault," I whispered. When she looked like she was calm again, I released her. "I'm sorry that I even brought that up today. I couldn't control what I was saying."

"So you weren't still mad about that?" she asked.

I sighed. "I haven't thought about that since it happened, but maybe subconsciously, it stayed with me. Wes was able to tap into my emotions somehow and he made me release some weird, dark stuff that was inside me. But it's out now. I'm not holding on to that anymore."

"That stuff you said… about knowing that I would leave someday… about not trusting me…"

I closed my eyes in shame. "Everything that I said came from somewhere inside me. I'm not gonna deny that. He twisted it, but it was there."

"I will _never_ abandon you, Santana," she said fervently. "I don't know what I have to say. I don't know what I have to do to make you know that."

I stared at my best friend, the most loving, forgiving, selfless person I had ever met, and I knew what I needed to say.

"You have to go."

"Excuse me?"

"Go to LA." She opened her mouth to protest, but I kept talking. "Call Holly Holiday up tomorrow and take your dream job. Opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime and I will never forgive myself if you miss it. Show me how much you love me by loving yourself. It's like you said earlier- I have to love you enough to not let you hurt yourself for me. If you don't take this job, that's exactly what you're doing."

She untangled her arms from mine and folded them across her chest. "I'm not gonna do that. I'm not gonna leave you here by yourself."

"It will get you away from this danger-"

"And leave you to fend for yourself with all this madness going on? Yeah, no. Not gonna happen." She reached over me and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. "Goodnight, crazy."

"Hey!" I turned the light back on. "You can't turn the light off and expect me to just go to sleep like we weren't in the middle of a conversation! I'm not a parrot!"

She leaned over and turned the light off again. "I'll think about it. When things calm down around here, we can talk about it again."

"But it might be too late by-"

Mercedes faked the world's loudest yawn. "I'm exhausted, girl. I need my beauty rest. Let's talk about it later."

"Fine," I huffed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight… _San_."

She laughed at herself for a full two minutes before I hit her in the face with Mr. Ziggles.

* * *

><p>"Santana! Hey! Wake up!" Someone was shaking me repeatedly. Annoyingly.<p>

I opened my eyes and Sam was standing next to the bed, staring at me with wide eyes. The lights were on. It was still dark outside. Mercedes was nowhere to be found.

"Go away," I groaned.

"You might want to see this." He threw back my covers and I hissed at him like a wild animal. "Come on."

I reluctantly sat up and stretched before trudging out of the room with my eyes half open. "This better be important. I'm really not in the mood for any more-"

I stopped dead in my tracks as I entered the living room.

Mercedes was pressed fearfully against the wall while Ben sat on the couch, the definition of calm. The coffee table had been shattered into a million wooden splinters and on top of the mess was a man in a plaid grey suit. He was tied up with the sheets that I'd given Ben to sleep with. He had a pillow case over his head.

"-foolishness," I finished.

"The robots found this guy lurking around the fire escape," Ben explained. "I checked his pockets and found these."

He held up a pad of sticky notes. I walked forward, stepping around the mess, and took the pad. Only the top sticky note was written on.

_A Threat: I will kill you._

_A Promise: You will kill her._

The lead weight of dread and impending doom dropped into my stomach. The people that controlled my mind were going to try and make me kill… who? Mercedes? Brittany? Quinn?

I wanted to vomit.

I swallowed thickly and forced myself to be calm. I had already had enough out-of-control episodes. I wasn't interested in having another one. For some strange reason, I didn't feel the surge of emotion that I'd expected, the panic and fear. I just felt a low hum of anger and a lot of focused determination.

"Stand him up," I said. My voice was eerily calm.

Ben raised an eyebrow at me, but complied with my request

"Sam, hold him."

Sam looked back and forth between me and Ben. Ben just shrugged, so Sam stepped forward, looped his arms under the guy's armpits, and held him up. The guy's arms were tied uncomfortably behind his back and his feet were crossed and tied together at the ankle and the knee. Once Sam had him secured, I ripped the pillowcase off of his head.

He wasn't someone I knew. Kurt wouldn't send someone important to do a simple job like this. He was a peon, a young one at that. He looked like he couldn't have been older than 18. He was white with short brown hair and watery brown eyes. Someone, probably Ben, had put tape over his mouth. I ripped it off and he gasped in pain.

"Where is he?" I said.

"Where is who?" he sniffled.

"Don't play dumb with me. I'm not in the mood for games." I gripped his chin tightly, painfully, so that he would not misunderstand.

_3._

My eyes flickered on of their own accord, powered by my anger.

"_Where. Is. Kurt. Hummel?_"

"I-I-I don't know!" He squirmed and tried to move away, but he was tied tightly and Sam had a good grip on him. "I don't know anything!"

"_Something tells me that that's just not true. Don't worry, though. My friend Ben has a little present that he likes to give to people who don't know anything."_

Ben snapped his fingers. A small ball of flame hovered over his palm, burning brightly in the dimly-lit living room. Mercedes shrank further against the wall and Sam almost dropped the guy on the floor. Ben lowered the ball of flame until it was right in front of the guy's crotch.

"Please don't do that!" he begged. "Please! I don't know anything, I swear to God!"

"You better know something because I'm about to grill your hot dog, man." Ben inched closer to the guy's zipper.

"No, please! I don't know!" he sobbed.

"That's too bad." The flames licked at the plaid pants and two seconds later, the weenie roast had begun.

"FUCK! FUCK! I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK HE-"

I slapped him hard across the face. "If you wake up my neighbors, you're going to jail. So I suggest you shut your face up… unless of course, you have something you need to tell me."

Everything came out of him in a big, wheezing whine. "I don't know where Kurt is- I get orders from Wes, but he's gone now! He left a few hours ago! He sent me and another guy out to deliver the sticky notes! The other guy's in Rockmore! That's all I know, I swear! I fucking swear!"

_Rockmore. Brittany._

Fumbling, I pulled out my phone and started calling Brittany as fast I could.

"Okay, that's enough," I said to Ben.

Ben killed his fireball, made a fist, and wiggled his fingers. A cool, icy mist came out of his hand and snuffed out the flames. He took the pillow case and shoved it in the guy's mouth.

"This was for Wes, but he's not here and you are, so enjoy," Ben said before punching the guy right in the dick. Sam dropped him onto the floor. As the guy howled in pain, Ben pulled out his own phone.

After what seemed like an eternity, Brittany finally answered.

"Santana! Is everything okay over there?" She sounded frantic.

The fact that she was alive and breathing relieved my anxiety.

"Yeah, we just had a little security incident over here." I poked our new friend with my foot and he groaned loudly.

"Puck! Conference call! Now!" Ben barked into his phone.

"We did, too," Brittany said. "I was just about to call you. There was a guy lurking on the roof. David says he's one of Kurt's men."

"What did you do with him?"

"David and the robot beat the crap out of him and gave him swirlies in the bathroom. Thank god Rachel's not here tonight. Quinn is still knocked out from her meds."

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, now that I can hear your voice." I could practically hear her blushing through the phone. "I was worried that Wes went back to your house."

"No, this guy says that Wes left town."

"And you believe him?"

"His crotch was on fire when he said it, for what it's worth. I'm not sure that I care either way. Even if Wes left, I know he's coming back."

The robot, who had been standing dutifully on the fire escape, walked into the living room, picked up our new friend, and threw him over his shoulder.

"Hey, R2D2. What are you doing?" I asked. The robot didn't answer.

"Did your robot just pick up your guy, too?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah." I looked warily at Ben, who was staring back at me. I put Brittany on speakerphone and indicated that he should do the same. "Care to explain, Ben?"

He grudgingly pushed the speakerphone button as he answered me. "We can't let them go back."

"Where are you taking them?" Brittany asked.

Puck laughed loudly through the phone. "Don't worry, we're not going to kill them. I mean, we _were_ going to kill them, but we figured you guys wouldn't like that."

Mercedes put her hands on her hips. "She asked you a question. Where are you taking them?"

"We know some people that will keep an eye on them for us," David chimed in.

"Who?"

"Nobody special. They're regular criminals. Once we deal with the Kurt problem, we'll figure out what to do with these guys."

"How do we deal with the Kurt problem?" I asked.

"I don't know," Ben said evenly, "you tell me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He plopped back down on the couch and started to smooth out the linens that had been disturbed in the scuffle. "We have a lot of people involved in this thing now…" he looked around the room pointedly, "and we're taking that into consideration. We're willing to resolve this in a way that suits your world view."

"You don't even know us," Mercedes snapped. "What do you know about our 'world view'?"

"Not much, but most people would probably rather see a 'bad guy' get thrown into some kind of prison than have me kill him in their living room." He said this while he was fluffing a pillow and the whole conversation started to feel a little surreal.

"But we could totally just kill them right now," Puck said rudely. "Your choice. You already know what my vote is."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," David said. "They could escape. It's too great of a risk."

Mercedes straightened her spine, trying her best not to look intimidated, but I knew her. She was afraid of these cold-blooded killers that I had let into our home – the ones that wore plaid and the ones that didn't. "I think killing them is a little extreme."

"I… I'm not so sure about that," Sam said timidly. Mercedes's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Hear me out, babe. These guys have been terrorizing us for weeks. I never knew if they were going to come into the house and hurt us or kill us. They're capable of anything."

"Anyone is capable of anything as far as we know, Sam," Brittany said.

Mercedes shook her head. "We need to vote on this."

Puck snorted. "The hell we do! You don't get a vote. You're not even involved."

"I'm not _involved_?" Mercedes put her hands on her hips. Sam and I instinctively stepped back.

"Uh oh," Sam muttered.

I covered my mouth to hide my grin. Being rude and dismissive to me was one thing, but Puck didn't know Mercedes. She was not one to be dismissed.

"So let me get this straight: _your_ enemy kidnapped _my_ roommate because he was trying to get to _you_, he put a gun to _my_ fiancé's head and threatened to kill him, he's got guys in suits sneaking all up and through _my_ house threatening _my_ life, and y'all just smashed _my_ coffee table for no good reason- but _I'm_ not involved?" She stuck her finger in Ben's face. "You don't get to decide if somebody gets killed in _my_ living room. You know why? Because. You. Don't. Pay. Rent. Here. So you guys need to figure out your backup plan, call whatever criminals you need to call, and take your asses back to bed."

She spun on her heel and stormed out of the room, muttering under her breath as she walked by. When she got to the doorway of her bedroom, she called out, "And the living room better not look like this when I get up in the morning!"

The door slammed behind her causing the three of us to jump.

Nobody moved or spoke until the robot's eyes lit up and the sound of Himanshu's laughter filled the room.

"Whatever," Puck muttered.

"Serves you right," I said under my breath.

Ben pointed at me. "You see why I'm not nice to people? Somebody else runs their mouth and I get yelled at!"

"She turns into her mother when she gets mad," Sam explained.

"She sure does," I said, smiling fondly. "I love that lady."

After a million trips to Mercedes's house, I could quite easily imagine Mrs. Jones wading through all of toys that we'd scattered on the floor and calling out, "the living room better not look like this when I get back from the store!"

Since the only option left on the table was to leave Kurt's men with some criminal babysitters, McKinley ended their conference call to make arrangements. Half an hour later, the robots took flight with their precious cargo in tow. Two hours later, the robots were back and Kurt's men were nowhere to be found.

* * *

><p>Sam got locked out of Mercedes's room and knew that waking her up was probably gonna be a bad idea, so naturally he ended up in my bed.<p>

Snoring.

"Can you put a sock in his mouth?" Brittany giggled.

I thought about it briefly. "There isn't a sock big enough for that mouth."

It was 5:45AM at that point and we had been talking on FaceTime because despite being exhausted, neither of us could go back to sleep. Brittany was in Quinn's bed, stroking her hair absently while her friend enjoyed the peaceful slumber of the heavily medicated. I was propped up on pillows, petting Ziggles and keeping a safe distance from Sam the Sleep Kicker. We both had our TVs set to the same channel so that we could watch TV together.

I wanted her there with me so badly that it hurt.

"My sleep schedule is going to be even more jacked up than it already was," I complained.

"Yeah, me too. I think I could sleep if you were here."

The corner of my mouth quirked up of its own accord. "Same. I like waking up with you. How do you always look so beautiful this early in the morning?"

"Stop it. I look like a train wreck," she laughed. She looked down at Quinn, checking quickly to see if she was still sedated. "It was really hard for me to leave you. I… I almost didn't. I feel like a bad friend for wanting to stay with you and a bad girlfriend for leaving you there."

"You're the best friend that Quinn could have, Britt. I wish she realized how much you're willing to give up for her," I said. "You're the best girlfriend I could ever have, too. You saved me from like, my inner darkness or something. I could've hurt Mercedes or Sam or myself. I can't thank you enough for what you did."

_I love you._

It was the wrong time for that, but it didn't stop me from thinking it or from feeling it.

I looked away, hoping that the words weren't written all over my face.

She smiled. "You don't have to thank me. You saved me from Kurt and the cops. I'm just starting to pay you back."

We sat in silence for a moment, letting the morning newscast play in the background.

I remembered something from earlier that I wanted to ask her about. "What was that song that you and Mercedes were singing earlier?"

She tucked her head down. "It's a hymn that she likes. After you disappeared, she sang it a lot. She would sing it whenever she felt scared and it made her feel a little bit better. I told her I liked it and that it made me feel better, too. I'm not really religious, but sometimes it feels nice to sing or pray or just do something, even if you don't think it's really gonna work the way it's supposed to. She remembered that I liked it, so she sang it for me today because I was scared for Quinn."

I smiled. "She's the best, isn't she?"

"She really is. Oh wow." Brittany sat up straight in bed. "Are you watching this? You remember that guy that looks like a stuffed animal? They're locking him up and throwing away the key."

I looked up at the TV just as the words "Howard Bamboo" flashed across the screen. His pudgy sad face appeared, but I couldn't hear what the reporter was saying about him.

I reached for the remote and turned up the volume just slightly, but by then he was gone and his image was replaced with that of the smarmy weasel-prosecutor, Sebastian Smythe. He was standing on the steps of the courthouse being swarmed by reporters.

"Typically, a pre-sentencing investigation takes several months," the Channel 5 reporter said. "This investigation only took one. How were you able to complete the process so quickly?"

"To put it bluntly, Mr. Bamboo is not a good man." Sebastian had this pseudo-grave expression on his face, as if he was genuinely torn up about the fact that Howard Bamboo wasn't a saint. "He's got an extensive criminal record, but we know he's dealt at higher levels in organized crime than what he's been arrested for in the past. We didn't need to dig any deeper than that."

The image cut to Howard Bamboo being escorted out of the courthouse in an orange jumpsuit. Lumbering behind him was a large, burly woman with curly hair. She looked like she wanted to break every camera around them. She also looked like she could do it with her bare hands.

The reporter's voice-over accompanied the footage. "Bamboo's attorney, Shannon Bieste-Menkins, had this to say after the hearing."

"Holy shit! That's the lawyer that's suing Uncle Zippy!" I hissed.

Shannon Bieste-Menkins pointed directly into one of the cameras and snarled "This man does not deserve to spend his life in prison. Justice has _not_ been served."

The newscast returned to the studio where the anchors wrapped up the segment and moved on to the next topic, which was the upcoming presidential debate. As clips of President Howell and Mayor Schuester on the campaign trail played in the background, I tried to remember why Shannon Bieste-Menkins looked familiar.

"Uncle Zippy? Is that the guy that runs the convenience store on your street?" she asked.

"Yeah, Zippy Mart," I said distractedly. "They're suing him for negligence. They think he messed up Bamboo's alibi. God, I can't figure out why that Bieste lady is giving me a crazy case of déjà vu,"

"That's a weird way to spell beast," she said. "It would probably be more fitting to spell it the other way. That woman is ripped."

"Yeah, her press conference looked like a WWE pre-fight interview. I thought she was about to challenge that Smythe guy to a cage match."

"That wouldn't even be a fair fight," Brittany laughed. "He's about the size of my pinky. Shannon Bieste would eat him alive."

The human brain works in weird ways.

Sometimes, it takes just the right ordering of words and just the right amount of sleep deprivation for your brain to make certain connections. I think if Brittany had made that comment an hour earlier or worded it differently, I wouldn't have thought anything of it.

When she said it then and like that, it jostled something in my memory, a memory that wasn't even the one I was racking my brain for.

"_Feed those bitches to the beast and this will all be over with."_

"Fuck," I whispered, sitting up straight in my bed.

"What?"

"I think- shit. What if-" My eyes were darting back and forth and I couldn't make my thoughts come out coherently.

"Slow down, San. Your brain's moving faster than your mouth."

I took a deep breath. "The cop from the hospital, Paul? When he was talking about those girls that were going to expose him, he said that the cops should 'feed those bitches to the beast.'"

Brittany froze as she realized what I had realized.

"Not 'beast,'" she said slowly, "Bieste."

"Exactly."

"Feed those bitches to the Bieste and this will all be over with.' Oh my god," she whispered.

I flopped back onto my pillows. "This might be more far-reaching than we thought."

"I need to call Shelby," she said. "We have to meet with her as soon as possible. We need to fill her in on everything."

"Why?" I asked skeptically. "I think we can handle it ourselves."

"We need her because we only know about stuff that's happening right now," she explained. "Shelby knows Lima like the back of her hand, the history, the secrets. It's her job. She can use that fill in the blanks and make some sense of this stuff." She paused. "I still want to stop the cops from hurting people. Don't you?"

"I do, but… I don't know."

"I think Shelby can help us figure this out faster so we can put a stop to this craziness," she gauged my expression, "but I won't call her if you don't want me to."

I didn't really trust Shelby, but that wasn't what was holding me back. I still didn't think that I was the right person to be taking down the police department. I didn't doubt that Brittany was. She had the kind of steadfast conviction that made people want to follow her into impossible battles. _I_ wanted to follow her, but _she_ wanted to walk beside me, and therein lay the problem.

"Santana," she said softly. I looked up and saw her staring earnestly into the camera. "Paul was attacking me. You had every right to react the way you did."

In true Brittany fashion, somehow she knew what was really bothering me. Paul Karofsky's legs. It was hard to think about. It was hard to rationalize that I had done something so permanently damaging on a whim and that if we pursued this, I would have to do it again. There would be more high pressure, split-second decisions to make. I was going to fuck it up. I was going to go too far and I knew it.

This is the kind of shit that I don't talk about in interviews.

Along with not telling people that I became a superhero to win a pissing match with Finntastic, I also leave out the part about not wanting to be a superhero in the first place. I always give Brittany the credit that she's due, of course. I would be nothing without her. I just leave out the part where I sat shaking in my bed, sleep deprived and afraid of myself.

"I wanna do the right thing." I was practically begging, but I didn't even know what I was begging for. "I want to stop them, but I don't trust myself."

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said honestly.

"Then let me be brave for you today. Tomorrow, too. The next day. Every day that you need it. I'll be brave for you." Her eyes were clear and shining brightly. "I'll be brave for you every day that you need me to be. Okay?"

I nodded and closed my eyes. I put the phone up against my cheek and took slow, deep breaths.

"I wish I was there with you now," she said quietly and I never needed anything more than I needed _that_ right then.

"How can you be so gung-ho about this?" I asked, pulling the phone away from my face. "I'm practically shitting myself over here."

She sighed. "Honestly, I am afraid, but it's weird. I'm way more afraid of Wes than anything else. With the cops, it's like more… it's like we're jumping into a hole and we can't see the bottom. I'm worried about where we might land."

"Well, I can be brave for you, too, you know," I offered.

She looked down at Quinn and back at me. "You already are. You're brave for me in other ways."

I grinned. "Go call Shelby before she gets caught up in a story or something."

"I'll call you back." She blew me a kiss as she ended the call.

I deflated and sank back into my pillows. Brittany was right. We were afraid of different things. We were jumping into a hole and Brittany was afraid of finding out just how deep it went. I, on the other hand, was afraid of what we'd have to do to get back out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So yeah, lots of Sancedes for your feels. I hope you found that enjoyable. I know there wasn't a lot of Brittana, but the next chapter is chock-full of Brittana goodness. It's the second half of what I wanted to do here. Much more Brittana, much more action. I feel like an advertisement. Chapter 18! Now with 50% more Brittana!

Just checked before posting this and we hit 1000 reviews today! Honestly, I'm floored. Thank you to everyone who has contributed to this story over the past 2, almost 2.5 years now. Thank you for your continued readership, support, and good vibes. Thank you... just thank you.

Peace and Love,  
>-LateInLifeTiburón<p> 


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